The Beginning of Everything
by AliceBB
Summary: Althea/Isabel, Alicia&Althea Al can't forget about Isabel and perhaps she won't have to. Seems simple enough until a lonely Alicia, a nosy Strand and way too much booze complicate matters. Forced to deflect her friends' attention, Al reveals painful events from her past and faces things about herself she never thought she would or could. The story matters; does love matter more?
1. Hiding My Heart

Chapter 1 Hiding My Heart

Isabel smiled.

At first the look was gentle; relieved almost. Then her eyes met Al's and became darker, more intense as her smile became knowing then ultimately revealing.

Al felt herself blush. That surge of embarrassment that she always felt no matter how old she was or how many times it had happened before.

"Yeah, I know." Al looked away and for a moment she almost let it go.

Taking a quick steadying breath in she looked up. Looked straight at the woman on the other side of the campfire.

"Yeah, I know," Al said again. "But it doesn't have to be." She felt herself gaining momentum, the words coming easier. "It doesn't have to be about who we could've been before, or who we might be after." Good words, strong words, convincing words. "It can be about now. You and me right here, right now."

There was more she could have added but she let it stop right there and stared across the fire at the other woman willing her face to remain open, honest, hopeful. This time Isabel blushed and looked down. When her gaze slowly returned to Al, she mirrored Al's expression. With the hopefulness turned up a notch.

Instantly Al was on her feet. In three quick strides she circled around the fire and stood above Isabel. When she extended her hand, Isabel put aside the beer bottle and reached up. Al gripped her hand firmly and pulled her up where they stood eye to eye, nose to nose.

For a long moment neither of them said anything. Then Al released the other woman's hand and moved to close the sparse inches between them her hand now moving to gently, barely, touch Isabel's cheek. Their eyes still locked, Al's other hand grabbed a fistful of T-shirt as she turned her head just slightly so their lips could meet.

The kiss was eager and hopeful and filled with a longing that hit Al's heart like a hammer.

Just like it had when it was real.

Al's eyes popped open as her back arched and she drew in a ragged breath. The driver's seat of her MRAP van was reclined the six inches or so it was capable of, her right foot was on the lower part of the dash, her pants were undone and her hand was three quarters of the way down… there.

She let out the breath she was holding, forcing her mind away from reality and back into her imagination. Yet reality kept trying to creep in.

"Yes, I know I didn't know her name at that point," Al mumbled to herself, "and I know I can't just pull a woman up like that, but fuck it, it's my fantasy."

And that hammer to the heart, that was so goddamn real!

She closed her eyes again and her hand pushed even lower, her index and middle fingers just reaching that spot that was warm, and wet and oh, so sensitive.

Back on the mountain top they were kneeling on a pile of soft sleeping bags hands dueling as they both fought to remove each others' clothing and not break that incredible kiss. When Isabel finally pulled away from Al's mouth, Al was on her back, her shirt and T-shirt gone, her pants undone. Isabel said nothing just closed her eyes sighing deeply – a sound that matched Al's own exhale – as her hand moved inside Al's pants. Al's sigh became a gasp when Isabel's mouth moved hungrily over Al's taut throat and zeroed in on her right breast. In an overwhelming crash of sensation, Al arched her back as Isabel's two fingers found her…

Outside the MRAP, boots crunched on gravel and the vehicle moved slightly as someone climbed up to the partly open driver's window.

Al froze in place her breath caught in her throat.

"What are you doing?!" Alicia's voice demanded as her face appeared scant inches from Al. "Are you alright? You've got a weird look…" Alicia didn't finish her thought as her gaze had shifted from Al's face to her lap where Al was struggling to pull her hand free from her pants and, at the same time, turn her body away from the window.

"Fuck! Alicia! Shit!"

Alicia disappeared from the window and gravel crunched again.

Al had nearly succeeded in closing the zipper on her jeans when Alicia reappeared on the other side of the vehicle, opened the door, and let herself in. In the dim light from the dashboard gauges Alicia's look was playful.

"Please, do come in." Al swept her damp fingertips through the long, errant lock of hair that was constantly falling into her eyes. Not that she ever minded. "It's not like you're interrupting anything." She had put particular emphasis on the word 'interrupting' and as her fingers pushed her hair behind her ear, she let her eyes fall fully on Alicia.

The younger woman was smiling, her grin turning the corners of her mouth up into a suppressed laugh.

"That's your thing isn't?"

"What?" Al almost choked her eyes dropping to the front of her pants where the button and top of her zipper were still obviously agape. "Fuck!" With her left hand Al covered the gap.

"Not that!" This time Alicia did laugh and her obvious embarrassment diffused Al's discomfort. "I mean, yeah, uh…that…but not **that**."

Now Al was just confused. "Alicia, what?" she said slowly exhaling the breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"Your thing," Alicia's eyes were on Al's face again, "with your hair. That…" Alicia paused and sighed. Turning toward Al in her seat she dramatically drew her fingers through her own hair and tossed it back over her shoulder with a downright suggestive flourish.

Al gaped.

_I do not! I can't! My hair isn't that long!_

Al snapped her mouth shut before the juvenile rejoinder could pass her lips. She narrowed her eyes at Alicia not totally able to keep from thinking Alicia was only seconds from blurting something about how she thought Al was the prettiest thing …

_One girl kisses me and now I think they all want to!_

"God!" Al dropped her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. She waited for Alicia to say something, anything. When the silence stretched, Al opened her right eye and strained to look at the young woman across from her without moving her head.

"Was there something you wanted, Alicia?"

"You do have pretty, I mean, nice hair," Alicia said out of nowhere.

_Absolutely nowhere_, Al thought.

"Thank you, I guess," Al turned toward Alicia and pinned her with her a serious gaze.

_Why? Is it working on you?_ Al was moments, just a heartbeat from saying when Alicia cleared her throat and looked away.

Al could feel the change of mood. The banter was hiding something. Something intense. She sat back again and waited.

Alicia breathed in and out a couple times, pursed her lips, and looked directly at Al.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry. Sorry for trying to kill you that time back at the stadium."

That was hardly what Al had been expecting. Not that she had really had any idea what Alicia was going to say. The transition from her all-to-real fantasy about Isabel, through Alicia's teasing about her hair, to this was jarring. Closing her eyes Al reviewed what Alicia had just said taking special note of how the words 'at the stadium' had been particularly difficult for her to say.

"You weren't at your best," Al replied her voice gentle.

"Ya think!"

Al just looked at Alicia giving her a moment to temper her harsh response.

Alicia gave a little half snort half cough. Her eyes roamed around the cabin of the MRAP as she seemed to be trying to think of what to say next. When her eyes stopped moving, Al realized Alicia had spotted the bottle in the makeshift cup holder next to the gear shift.

With a quick move Alicia snapped it up. Al's counter move only had her fingers closing on empty air.

"Alicia, don't…"

Alicia ignored the words. With barely a glance at the label that she was unlikely to see in the dark anyway, she pulled the cork and tipped the bottle back taking a healthy draft.

"Alicia that's dark…" Al didn't get to finish. Alicia had stopped dead the liquor bulging her cheeks. She blinked slowly twice, paused and then swallowed.

Al watched her expression change from chagrin to something much more moderate. Again, Alicia blinked.

"That's dark rum, Alicia."

"Well, shit," Alicia wasn't listening. She squinted her eyes at the bottle again then brought it up a second time. This time showing restraint she took a more measured sip.

"That's good!" Alicia slurred slightly as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Better than that shit Sarah calls beer!"

Al held out her hand for the bottle but Alicia was loath to give it up.

"Dark and dirty," Al said cheerfully. Smiling she extended her arm farther and said what was sure to get a half-drunk girl to give it up. "Share with a sister, would ya? Yer not the only one needs a drink since the end of everything." Al paused to laugh at her own internal joke as Alicia handed the bottle over.

"Besides, I think you may have already had a drink of beer or something." Al tipped the bottle up and took a long pull as Alicia watched.

"Yeah, maybe, or something." Alicia held her hand out for the bottle. "You too, I think." Taking the bottle back from Al she gave it a shake and held it up to the light to stare at how much was left. After taking another drink Alicia sighed heavily.

Al waited her out. She wasn't going to admit that most nights she had a drink, no, just a sip, of something. Most nights since they had flown that stupid old plane back over the mountain to the mill. Tonight, had been special though, hence the good stuff. The good stuff that had stayed hidden even more secure than her tapes after how many people had trashed her van? She had lost count.

"It's hard for me to apologize," Alicia finally said. Finding the cork in her lap she jammed it into the top of the bottle and slapped it tight with her palm. Handing the bottle back to Al she spoke even more seriously.

"When you came out of the woods after you had been gone, I was so happy to see you." Alicia paused and Al thought she was trying to arrange her words and not slur drunkenly. When Alicia started again, she realized it was something else. She was trying to hold her composure.

"I hugged you and you looked happy to see me… and Morgan." Alicia seemed to add his name as an afterthought. "I really was happy to see you cause I didn't want to see you dead and eaten."

"OK," Al uncorked the bottle and took another drink. Half drunk or just full of angst Alicia was taking a while.

"When I thought of you dead and eaten I thought about the time I tried to push you out the door, that door," Alicia pointed beyond Al for emphasis. "To kill you. Let them tear you apart and kill you." Alicia took a deep breath. "And when I thought about that, I thought I was going to barf on your boots."

"My boots," Al couldn't help looking down at her feet. When she looked up, she could see Alicia's eyes were moist. "Oh," was all she managed to say and covered her discomfort by taking yet another drink.

"So, I'm sorry. I wish I could take it back. The trying to kill you part." Alicia tried a smile managed a sort of half grin.

Al looked out the windshield for a long moment. The moon had come out of the clouds and lit up the courtyard of the denim factory. It was late; the moon edging toward the western horizon. In two days it would be full. Taking a deep breath Al looked at Alicia. She could feel the rum going to work on her rubbing loose her control.

"It's OK, Alicia. It seems like every good relationship lately has started with someone trying to kill me." She paused, shook her head. "It's the way things are now. The way of the world we live in. Dead doesn't mean what it used to anymore."

"Fuck, yeah it doesn't! Not when they fucking get up again."

"You swear too much, girl!" Without a thought, Al passed the bottle to Alicia who took a mouthful.

"I hadn't fucking noticed."

Alicia held a straight face for only a couple of beats before she started to snigger. When the snigger turned to a laugh, Al joined in.

After a couple more sips each from the bottle the laughter died off and Alicia looked at Al again. "What are you doing out her by yourself every night?" She paused, a flash of embarrassment covering her face and she began to stammer. "I mean… I saw you… uh… not that… I mean...fuck!" Alicia finally stopped with her hand covering her mouth.

"Alicia, I'm just chilling; spending some me time."

_Me time alright_, Al thought and snorted. _Time for some deflection before she gets over our collective embarrassment and gets really curious. _

"Ask me where I got it," she gestured with the bottle in her hand. "The rum. Ask me where I got it."

Alicia looked taken aback at the change of pace for only the barest of seconds.

"OK, where'd ya get it?" There was no hiding the slur this time.

"I was on a ship, the Picton Castle out of Lunenburg Nova Scotia." When Alicia just looked confused, Al continued. "It's… well, it was, a sailing ship. We sailed around the …" Alicia was grinning. Al stopped confused. "What?"

"I knew it!" Alicia slapped her hands together. "You were a fucking pirate, right? A rum drinking pirate!"

"No, I…" But Alicia wasn't listening. She was sniggering again. Al recorked the bottle and put it, with what little was left, under her seat.

"Did you always want to be a pirate?" Alicia had stopped sniggering and seemed quite serious.

"No, I wanted to be a singer. A girl with a guitar."

_Where in holy hell had that come from?_

"Really?" Alicia had sat up straight; almost sober. Her eyes went from Al to the center console where Al's headphones and an old iPod lay. She assumed Al had been listening to music, and she had been when she was feeling maudlin. And that had been before. Before tonight when she had finished what she had been working on for weeks and was feeling hopeful. And sexy.

"Can you sing?" Alicia's voice was bright with the question.

"I can, at least I used to." Al was staring at the iPod thinking about the song she had been listening to. It was a cover by Adele – is she even still alive? – and it seemed to sum up all the longing she had felt since Isabel kissed her. A longing that seemed to resonate with every lost opportunity she had passed up in her life. A life where work and the story – the damn story – were always more important.

Al sat up and breathed in slowly and out slowly. The rum was really doing a number on her. Pushing away the hope and jamming the sadness, the resignation, the longing into her tired head.

_Longing! Would you stop with that damn word already!_

She could feel Alicia watching her, waiting. Fuck it! Al took a deep breath and looked at the woman next to her.

How many young women had Al played her guitar and sung to all those million, zillion years ago? How many had looked at her like Alicia was looking at her now? Full of expectation? Too many, for sure. Too many worthless broken hearts.

_Mine and theirs. _

Unconsciously Al touched the paper that lay so carefully folded, hidden away in her shirt pocket protected by a button and all her hopes.

Consciously, carefully, she began to sing. And the words swooped in and took her away, away to a mountain top and a simple campfire. Maybe the words weren't right; not like the song had been back then before the end of everything, but right now they were her words.

**This is how the story went, I met someone by accident**

**She blew me away, she blew me away**

**It was in the darkest of my days when you took my sorrow and you took my pain**

**And buried them away, you buried them away**

**I wish I could lay down beside you when the day is done**

**And wake up to your face against the morning sun**

**But like everything I've ever known**

**You disappeared one day**

**So I spend my whole life hiding my heart away**

Al had stopped singing and was staring at the moon again. The rest of the words just weren't there and it didn't matter.

A sound at her window made her jump and her hand find her trench knife.

Alicia tapped the glass of the half open window and made a _roll it down_ gesture. Al hadn't noticed when she left the passenger seat. She released her knife and complied.

"Yeah, you can." Alicia smiled. "Notice I didn't fucking say fuck?"

Al started to say something then was cut off by Alicia leaning in the narrow MRAP window, grabbing her hair – the hair she loved to sweep away with her fingers – and planting the most gentle of kisses on her forehead.

When Alicia pulled back hanging onto the edge of the window, Al found her voice.

"You're cute for a drunk girl."

"And she, whoever the fu… whoever the hell she was, was a fool to walk away from you."

In the moment that Al sat frozen, her face looking stupidly lost, no doubt, Alicia jumped down.

"Maybe you will find her again, who knows?"

Then she was gone, gravel crunching bootsteps fading away.

_Maybe I should barf now?_ Al thought. A few slow breaths made that feeling fade and Al closed her eyes her hand finding the buttoned pocket again. When she opened her eyes again the moon was slipping below the horizon and it was very, very late.

The paper was in her hand. The note she had carried so carefully never letting it beyond her touch since she had found it in a bin, under a beer bottle on the top of a mountain. A mountain she had spent an unforgettable night on. Carefully she unfolded it. Skipping past the technical instructions where the note became rambling as if the writer couldn't quite put it all together all the things that she longed to say, Al began to read.

_I know I said the end of everything. Everything that we used to know. Everything that would've made it easy for two birds like us to meet and actually be together. I can't stop… I can't stop thinking about you. God I'm sorry I even thought about taking your life. You matter. Yes, you do. If not to the world then to me. I hope it's me… Your life was not mine to take, it couldn't be not with what I was feeling. Al, Althea, I was so stupid, so heartless (and heartless came so darn easy and shouldn't have)_

Here the ink was smudged by liquid that Al imagined was tears.

_I hope you can forgive me and I really, really hope you can follow these instructions! _

_Then we can talk again. Talk like we did around the fire._

Here the writing seemed to slip into something more lyrical, poetic like, and the words sucked the life and heart from Al and replaced it with…

_I long to be back there with you, sharing a warm beer and so many inuendoes. Watching your face in the firelight and thinking maybe there could be more. No past, no stupid future with my near meaningless missions. If you were my mission, now that would mean something and I could kiss you and believe it's not the end. Not the end. The beginning. The beginning of everything._

_A month from now when the moon is full, listen and I'll be there. 04:00 on this frequency… I think I know you and maybe for once something will matter more than a story._

Her hand trembling slightly Al reached out and flipped the power switch to the MRAP's radio. The radio that with Isabel's instructions she had modified. The radio that was now connected by a long wire to the antenna on top of the mill.

Pulling on the headphones Al closed her eyes and listened to static.

_Two days,_ she thought. _Two days._


	2. You and Tequila

Chapter 2 You and Tequila

Al breathed in a long, deep breath sitting back on her heels, legs folded under her and her hands on her thighs. Leaning all the way forward she extended her arms out straight her neck in line with her spine, her face down. Exhaling she let her mind go blank and wiggled her fingers.

A footstep on gravel alerted her to someone approaching. Al didn't move, just held the stretch as whoever it was stepped up on the tailgate and, well, gazed at her bum, no doubt.

"If you're praying, I can come back later."

Keeping her head down, Al straightened her legs and peeked between her thighs.

June.

Coming all the way up, hands on thighs again, Al sighed.

"I'm exercising. And it's called the prayer stretch." Dropping back to her bum, Al turned around.

June stood on the bottom step of the MRAP her face nearly level with Al's. She was wearing a plaid shirt mostly unbuttoned over a white T-shirt. Around her neck a dark bandana was knotted. A heavy leather belt supported her well-worn jeans. A sheath hung from the belt. June rested her hand on the butt of the knife encased in the sheath and looked uncertain.

Al's eyes shifted to June's other hand which held a large thermos jug.

"That's not…"

June brightened. "Yes! I have coffee!"

In a single movement Al was on her feet. She grabbed a second camp chair and joined June at the little table set up at the back of the MRAP. Jumping up again she returned to the van, rummaged around, came back with a plastic mug. Setting it on the table next to June's thermos top cup she watched as the other woman poured.

June tapped their mugs together and took a sip. "Oh, and I have breakfast too. The bakery is up and running." From a canvas bag that had been resting by her foot, June took out a small loaf of bread, a knife and a jar of what looked amazingly like strawberry jam.

There had been a time when Al kinda liked June as in _really kinda_ liked her. She seemed to have both confidence and a certain vulnerability that Al found attractive. And cute eyes. After last night there were now two people Al was out to.

"Coffee, fresh bread and jam. Are you trying to get in my pants?" Al teased.

"Who me?" June paused; the bread slice half cut. After a beat she continued. "Alicia, maybe, but not me. I'm an engaged woman, don't you know." When she wiggled the fingers of her left hand, Al noticed the ridiculous candy wrapper ring John had given her had been replaced by a real ring.

"Nice, what did Alicia tell you?" Al took the slice of bread slathered with jam June passed her, took a bite and closed her eyes with joy. "Mmmmm…" Words didn't matter not when it was real bread with real jam and there was real coffee. When she opened her eyes again June was watching her, bread untouched in front of her, expression serious.

Al got up again and headed into the van. "Well, if it's going to be that kind of conversation…" When she returned, she set a bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream on the table. "It goes good with coffee." Al poured a couple fingers of the liquor into her mug.

"I know it does," June pushed her cup forward. "We used to drink our coffee like this after night shift." After Al poured, June stirred with her finger and took a sip. "Don't be trying to get _me_ drunk, Al."

"Is that what she told you? I got her drunk?"

June sighed. "She didn't really tell me anything. Early this morning I heard her crying so I went in her room to see what was … if she needed to talk." June took a drink of coffee and a bite of bread. She chewed slowly choosing her words. Al waited. "She said 'I talked to Al. I wanted to tell her...' something I couldn't make out, then 'we drank rum and she sang to me now I just want to cry.'"

Al sat back; mug held in her two hands thinking.

"I think she has a crush on you, Al. You shouldn't encourage her. She's what? Twenty-something? And you're what? Thirty-five?"

"Thirty-six," Al replied automatically. "I don't know how old Alicia is, but she's obviously old enough to have survived all of this." Al made a broad gesture with her mug taking in everything around them and, by extension, the world outside. She leaned forward and refilled her mug with coffee and Bailey's. More of the latter than the former.

"I shouldn't have to defend myself to you or anyone else, June. If Alicia and I wanted to be lovers, then so what? Sometimes I think she's a bit immature and it feels like she's my younger sister. Other times she's so astute she could be our mother!" Al made a gesture between herself and June. "And we shouldn't be telling anyone else who to be attracted to."

There was a long pause before June spoke again. "Al, you're the only lesbian here. It only stands to reason…"

Al didn't let her finish. "June! It doesn't work like that!" Al smacked her forehead with her palm. "It's not like someone picked teams – 'all you gay people over here, all you straights over there' – and now the girls are lining up at my door."

_Wait! Maybe they were…_ Al cut off that thought because it led to Isabel.

"I'm not stupid, Al."

"But you are naive; at least about this. And you don't have the context."

At the word _context_, June sat forward. "So, tell me."

Al sighed. To tell her what she and Alicia had talked about would be breaking a confidence. But, without something, June was unlikely to let this go.

"I didn't sing to her, June. I sang, just not to her. It was about someone else." Al paused, her mind ranging back to earlier this morning. To Alicia's empathy and her gentle kiss. "She might not have been sad about me. She might have been sad _for me_.

"Or both," June's antagonism was gone and her expression was now gentle. "I didn't know you could sing."

"Yes, I suppose." Al sat back crossed her one ankle on the other knee comfortable again. "I used to sing and play guitar and a bit of piano. A long time ago."

"Before all this?" June made the same broad gesture Al had indicating the world and the state it was in.

"Yeah, before all this and before I had a career. Before everything." Al felt her jaw tighten involuntarily. "It's not a nice story."

Al was saved from saying anything more; Strand was approaching.

"I heard this vehicle was a bar now," he placed a bottle on the table, produced several shot glasses. "That and something about all the gay people being over here?" Strand gazed around. "Perhaps they have chairs?"

Al snorted and got up to get him one. When she returned, Strand had poured two shot glasses of the clear liquor and June was sitting back from the table holding her coffee. "Not for me," she explained. "This is more than enough. Al was just going to tell us about how she used to be a singer."

Al was looking at the bottle so Strand turned the label towards her. Jose Cuervo.

"You and tequila…"

To Al's surprise, and probably June's shock, Strand began to sing. Al joined him her voice easily finding the harmony above his deeper tones.

"**Make me crazy. Run like poison in my blood. Another night could kill me, baby. One is one too many, one more is never enough…"**

When the last note died out, Strand raised his shot glass. "Amen to that." He waited until Al raised hers and after they had clinked them in a toast, he downed his. Al sighed and followed suit.

"Gah! Who drinks tequila in the morning?"

"Perhaps those of us that are up all night." Strand was looking at Al pointedly. "What is it that you do in there," Strand gestured with his now refilled glass at the MRAP. "I've seen your lights on late at night."

_I've been modifying the radio so I can talk to the woman I only just met and think I'm totally in love with. The woman you know nothing about because she works for some super-secret post-apocalyptic CIA organization she was willing to kill me over. Oh, and did I mention I masturbate while thinking sexy thoughts about her?_

Al didn't have to say that or anything else because Alicia had appeared at the table. With a snap she opened the camp chair she was holding and proceeded to flop into it all loose limbed. "None of your fucking business, Victor." She draped one leg over the fabric arm of the chair and flicked her fingers at Strand and the bottle on the table.

"Oh, do excuse my bartending," he poured her a shot refilling both his own and Al's at the same time. Al had not noticed him drink his second.

"Maybe I'm like you, Strand, I drink and brood." Al just held her glass without drinking. Her stomach had gone tight. Strand didn't seem ready to let his line of questioning drop.

Strand made a face that clearly showed he didn't believe her and started to say something but was cut off by Alicia.

"Who cares," Alicia downed her shot, blinked a couple times, and continued. "I want to know why Al gave up singing."

"Me too," June chimed in.

Strand did not look mollified.

_Damn him_, Al thought. _Time for some serious distraction._

Al drank the tequila in one gulp, put the glass on the table with a satisfying snap, and sat back.

"Conversion therapy. I was seventeen."

The words hung menacingly in the air.

"Oh, dear," said June.

"More booze," Stand refilled the empty glasses.

"What?" Alicia looked confused.

"Conversion therapy is the fake science of trying to change a gay person to a straight person by psychological intervention. Almost always against their will." When Strand finished, he looked contrite.

"If Google still existed it would say something like that," Al paused. June looked pained and Alicia seemed a mix of confused and angry.

"Who would do that to you? Your parents?" Alicia blurted.

Al would've liked to have taken Alicia's hand; given it a squeeze. Parents were a sore spot with the girl. Her mother especially. That was part of what this morning had been about Al had come to realize. The reason why just thinking about the stadium where her mother had sacrificed herself was so difficult.

"Pray away the gay in my case, and it wasn't my parents, it was my great aunt. 'You need to stop with the music. Is garbage,'" Al mimicked the old lady's Polish accent. "'All those girls they looking at you funny. They think you big dyke.'" Al laughed inwardly at the memory.

"That was your mistake there," Strand was leaning his elbows on the little table. June caught the liquor bottle before it could fall over. "Inviting your family to your performance and having them see all the fine ladies tossing their unmentionables on the stage."

For a moment Al thought he was serious. When he grinned, big and wide, she laughed.

"They only did that when I sang in Spanish."

"Ah, a romance language. A fine choice, mi amiga." Strand leaned forward and they tapped glasses before downing another shot. Al had lost count, but however many it was, she was getting a buzz. Again. The others were looking at her expectantly so Al sat back and began her story. Or, at least, one of her stories.

"My name is Althea Szewczyk-Przygocki. I grew up in New Mexico. When I was seventeen and my parents were overseas, I went to stay with my great aunt in Florida. I didn't like her; I never liked her. She insisted I call her Mrs. Przygocki. That of course only made me hate my name more. Besides that, all the kids called me "Gocki". Which I suppose was only warranted because I was gawky; all arms and legs without a shred of grace. My mother tried to make me go to ballet classes but when I saw what they had to wear I began to plan my escape. To run away. My father intervened. I had been taking piano lessons for like forever so I said I wanted to play guitar too."

Al paused and looked up. She squinted. John was now sitting beside June holding her hand and watching Al intensely. Al leaned forward, took up the shot glass and downed more tequila.

"Why did your parents want you to stay with tu tía abuela when you didn't like her," Luciana asked.

_When had she…_

"Rodzina jest rodzina," Al said in Polish. "Family is family. My mother was a doctor and she belonged to Médecins Sans Frontières."

"Doctor's Without Borders." Sarah translated. "A noble organization." She stood next to Wendall's chair and Al didn't bother to think about when those two had appeared.

"My father was a travel writer, at least he had been. When he started following my mother around the world, his writing became more about the people he met and their problems; their stories."

Several of her friends were nodding knowingly. Someone mumbled "like father, like daughter."

"There was no one who could take me when they had to leave on short notice and besides, Florida had beaches. New Mexico did not. And…" Al drew out the word for effect. "I had bought a used electric guitar and was playing in a grungy garage band. That kinda got their notice and disapproval."

Al felt her fingers curling around the smooth neck of the Stratocaster; could feel the body of guitar against her hip because she wore the strap long and played bouncing on the balls of her feet stringy hair hanging in her eyes. The music surrounded her like a wall of sound. It was loud and it was glorious.

"Fuck, I'm in love," Alicia clearly meant it by the look she was giving Al.

When Sarah added "Me too," Al realized she had said all of that out loud.

She watched Wendall raise his hand. "Righteous, dude."

"You describe it too well," Strand poured her another shot and she took it. That had been the fun part. She was getting to the not so fun part.

"So when I went to Florida, Mrs. Przygocki - who lived nowhere near a beach in some shitty trailer park - the suka,"Al figured the Polish for bitch needed no translation, "Put something in my food and I came to being carried down the driveway by a couple of goons as my great aunt stood on the rickety steps of her trailer and tutted – yes, tutted – no one could tut like that old bag. 'Is for your own good.'"

June handed Al a piece of bread with jam. "Eat this. Keep up your strength. We need to hear the rest of the story." Al ate the bread and looked around at the group. Of the core group, only Morgan seemed to be missing. She remembered a truck had gone out this morning. He must have been on it dropping off boxes or doing some good deed somewhere.

Al wiped her mouth on her shirt sleeve and continued. "All I could think is 'I hope her foot goes through that step and she gets stuck there'. There was a god damn wasp nest under that porch, gave me the creeps." She felt her shoulders flinch involuntarily.

"I never liked religion and I hated it more after a few days in that place. It was like a bible camp only they weren't just earnest about Jesus, they were _really, really_ earnest about Jesus. I tried to get by just playing along, but when they wanted to cut my hair and make me wear some sort of dress, shit got serious. I was sure I was going to wake up with one of the_ counselors_ holding scissors in my face and telling me God needed me to have my bangs cut. You know what stopped them from cutting my hair?"

When there were head shakes all around Al took a drink of water – _where did that come from?_ – and continued. "I pointed out that Jesus had long hair." There were a few laughs and lots of smiles. "'See Jesus over there,' I said, 'and over there, and over there, and over there' dude should've had his own boy band or at least a choir there were enough of him around. No one fucks with my hair," As Al swept the hair out of her eyes, she could hear Alicia snigger.

"I started sleeping with one eye open after that cause I didn't how long my logic would hold them off. That's when I started hearing my roommate crying at night."

"You had a roommate?!" Strand was incredulous. "How stupid were they?"

"Stupid. Yeah, I'm no longer a wanna-be rock star dyke cause I've prayed to Jesus and so has the cute little redhead with the most amazing blue eyes who sleeps in the bed only feet away from me. We're converted, thank you, let us go home now. New Mexico. Not Mrs. Przygocki's stinky trailer."

Al closed her eyes, didn't bother opening them as she continued. "She crawled in my bed with me when she knew I was awake. 'I'm scared, Al. The people here scare me.' I put my arms around her, held her. I told her it would all be over soon they'd let us go if we just smiled and said the right things. There was one guy that scared everyone, both girls and guys. I told her not to ever be alone with him – that's what everyone said. He was fake as the days are long, that asshole. I used to call him names in Polish under my breath when he led a group session. 'Stupid, ugly, tight-ass pig no one likes or wants to fuck' sounds really funny in Polish. Al paused to laugh. When it died away, she took a deep breath.

"What I didn't realize is he didn't go after the weak ones; he went after the ones like me who saw straight through him and his bullshit. The ones who defied him."

The empty plastic bottle crunched in Al's hand as she squeezed it flat. She knew they were listening, there wasn't a breath that she could hear yet she couldn't look up. Couldn't meet their eyes. She was grateful, felt renewed strength when Alicia reached out and took her other hand.

"He tried to rape me. After all I knew about avoiding him it still happened. I fought him but he was strong. He broke my wrist, sprained my elbow, broke two fingers on my left hand, I had hand shaped bruises on my neck, my hair half ripped out."

When she pushed her hair out of her eyes this time her hand was shaking.

"I kicked him off me so he tried to force me down on my knees. I bit him. Not there, just on his belly. While he howled and I spit out the blood, I got away. He tried to claim I fell down the stairs. 'So why does he have a bite mark if I fell down the stairs?' They saw the blood on his shirt and someone pulled it up and there was a perfect imprint of my…" Al clicked her teeth together. "You should've seen them recoil from him; they literally stepped back in horror. Really like they didn't already know, was all I could think."

Al looked up then so she could throw the bottle away without hitting anyone. When it only bounced off the side of the MRAP with an anemic _pop_, she grabbed the shot glass and threw it. "Fucker," she said when it shattered.

"Fucker!" Strand threw his.

"Yeah, fuck that mother fucking sack of fucking shit," Alicia threw hers.

Everyone looked like they wanted to hug her so Al continued. "I demanded a phone to call my father. He carried a satellite phone – for emergencies only – he said. I couldn't dial it with a broken right wrist and two broken fingers so I recited the numbers and someone else dialed it. He said he didn't know I had been taken there and I believed him. He said they wouldn't touch me again and he would come and get me. It wouldn't take long they were only in Honduras then. He told me to hand the phone to the person in charge. I couldn't punch her so whatever he said to her was just as good._ 'Yes, Mr. Szewczek. No one will harm her and I'll have the nurse see her, yes Mr. Szewczek, right now_."

"They shut that place down, right?" This from pragmatic John.

"Not because of me. I mean my father would've shut them down but he didn't have to." Al's gut clenched and she could barely keep down the bile at the back of her throat. "The day he arrived… that was the day my sweet young roommate chose to hang herself. In the chapel."

"Even after my injuries healed," Al added as an afterthought. "I never played guitar again."

Al took a deep breath and pushed herself with effort out of her chair. "Now if you'll excuse me I need to go throw up and pass out." She took the full bottle of water June handed her. "Sorry to ruin the party."

Avoiding Alicia's eyes, she walked away and was barely out of sight when the booze and the bread and the jam and everything else came back up.

When it was over Al walked to the back of the van. Everyone was gone. She climbed the stairs and almost stepped on the bottle of Ibuprofen someone had left her. _Good people_, she said to herself and swallowed three of the pills.

She lay on her back on her exercise mat and tried to control her breathing. The image was there in her mind and once it came to her it was hard to push away. Arms out straight on each side, Al breathed and clenched her eyes tight shut.

Her father was barely out of the car when there was a disturbance at the chapel. Al was curious. Part of her wanted to run to her father and let him hold her but the other part was curious, too curious. Her father followed her and the crowd to the door of the chapel. Al expected screaming, crying something. Not the silence.

_Silence can stick in your head just as bad as screaming can._

When the people in front of her turned away, Al saw her roommate. A sight she would never forget, _ever_. From just the right angle, the angle Al stood at, the body superseded Jesus on his cross that hung behind the alter. Replaced him. How she managed to hang herself with her arms out straight Al would spend many nights pondering. Eventually she just gave up and time did its thing and she thought about it less and less. The image did not fade and never would. And after a year or so she began to think of it as the ultimate revenge the ultimate middle finger at all of them. Here I hang, like Jesus for your sins.

_And I never knew her story, I wished I had. It had one hell of an ending if nothing else. The ones you think are weak will surprise you cause sometimes they aren't. They just aren't. And they have good stories you just need to ask._

Al turned on her side, burped and fell asleep.

Later

When the tap on the window glass came Al was expecting it.

Alicia was on the other side. She held up an MRE pouch. The heat from it steamed the window slightly. Al nodded and Alicia came around to the passenger side and got in. "You don't eat enough, you're too skinny."

Al took the food suppressing a comment about how Alicia would know. She certainly was thin and the tight, slim leg jeans she wore sure showed off her ass nicely. Taking a forkful of the chicken and rice Al closed her eyes.

"It's good, isn't it?" Alicia had misinterpreted.

_Yes, girl your ass is good. I guess I never really looked. I always thought of you as too young, and swearing aside, you aren't really. How could you be and survive this?_

Alicia let Al eat without saying anything more for a time. Yet, she was only biding her time. Al could feel it.

"You have questions?' Al had finished nearly all of the meal and, wiping her mouth, set the pouch aside.

"Thank you for opening up, for telling your story," Alicia began. "It cost you, I could tell." Here Alicia paused for a long moment before blurting out her next thought.

"Why did you stop playing and singing? Why did you let him win?"

"It wasn't about him," Al looked directly at Alicia. "It was about her."

"Your roommate?"

"When I held her, comforted her," Al struggled to get the words out, "I sang to her. And after she died all I could think was I failed her and my voice and the songs I sang would never really reach anyone the way I wanted… and needed."

Alicia looked away out the windshield. Heat lightning streaked the sky beyond the factory lighting up the tall trees. "This story has layers," she finally said.

"Yeah, I'm a chick with layers."

Al sat back, foot up on the dash again. The lightning was forking across the sky silently. The clouds beyond the factory showed enormous layers when lit from within. Al wondered if a storm was coming.

"How did you get over it and have normal…" Alicia hesitated.

"Normal sexual feelings?" Al finished for her. Alicia wasn't the first one to ask that question. "Rape isn't about sex, Alicia. It's about power."

"I know that."

"OK," Al scrubbed at her face. This part wasn't easy even though she had worked it out with an understanding therapist. "He wanted to take away who I was and, even though he didn't know it, my innocence. I didn't let him. That wasn't his to take, it was mine to give."

Alicia's head had snapped around at the word _innocence_.

"You hadn't before? Even with all those girls who came to your concerts?"

Al sighed. "I didn't play concerts; I played in a few coffee houses and bars and on street corners in Santa Fe. And there wasn't that many girls. Just a few." Al closed her eyes again. The girls all blended together yet the feelings – or rather lack thereof -remained. "I made out with them and it was nice, I guess. I liked kissing them and feeling their fingers in my hair. I just never had the confidence to go further. I didn't know I could say 'touch me here' or 'I want you to…' or 'I like it when you'…"

Alicia looked surprised.

"You're surprised I can see," Al said. Alicia just nodded in answer.

Al looked away for a long moment. The lightning was only sporadic now.

"And I didn't have the passion I expected. I thought I would feel… well, I didn't really know what. 'You think too much' my therapist told me. 'it's not about thinking it's about letting go and just feeling. Letting your heart lead, not your mind'. That was a revelation, believe me."

"You had a good therapist, I think. My mom was a good counselor."

"Yes, I think she probably was." If Al had taken anything from her encounter with Madison it was that the woman could see the bigger picture. "I had a couple of them over the years. They each gave me something and I think the last one gave me the most."

"I miss her. A lot. My mom…"

"And you're lonely."

"Not just for my mom. For someone, anyone. Someone to talk to me and help take away this pain."

Now Alicia closed her eyes and Al could imagine there were tears.

_And you think it might be me…_

"You killed me with that song." Alicia didn't open her eyes; directed her words at the windshield.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"It's OK," Alicia smiled slightly hardly seen in the dark. "I know it wasn't about me."

"I'm sorry," Al was trying to think of something more to say when Alicia simply opened her door, stepped out, and with just a nod, shut the door and was gone.

_Layers and complications_, Al thought.

For a long time, Al did nothing just breathed. Eventually she reached out, flipped on the radio, put on the headphones and listened to static. She looked at the time on the watch fob that hung near the radio.

_Why now? Why did Isabel evoke a passion like I never thought I could feel? She kissed me and I didn't think. I just felt. Felt my knees melt, my throat tighten, and my heart pound like a hammer on a brick._

_One more day and a bit. 26 hours, and 10 minutes…_


	3. Crazy Love

Chapter 3 Crazy Love

Al was dreaming.

She was hanging from a climbing harness on the side of a mountain. A rope was twisted around her right arm making her shoulder numb. The side of her face was wet with blood or something. The rope that hung below her jerked and she looked down.

"Al, help me please! I can't hang on!" Isabel swayed below her one hand holding the rope, the other clawing at the cold stone of the mountainside.

"Hold on! Let me…" Al tried swinging herself to the side where she could see a large carabiner anchored in the rock, but her line was caught on something and fraying. If she could just grab onto that anchor, she could save them both.

Al kicked out away from the wall reaching, straining for the carabiner. When her hand closed around it her line parted with a snap. The end of the rope unraveled from around her right arm, passed through the harness and, as she looked down, disappeared from view Isabel going with it.

Hanging from the hook Al was consumed with guilt. _I failed you, I'm sorry. I should've done more!_

There was a sickening thump like an over ripe watermelon hitting a rock and Al lurched awake. Her right arm was numb, the side of her face damp from drool, and her throat felt sore from snoring. Taking all this in and shaking her head, she became aware of something going on outside.

"Al, help!"

Al stumbled to the van's back door. Through the heavy glass of the window she could see Grace, her face terrified. When she cracked open the door Grace was on the top step kicking at two of the dead who clawed and snarled at her from the ground. Another walker, head pulverized, had somehow gotten stuck between the steps of the van with part of its upper body pinning Grace.

Al couldn't get the door open more than a couple feet but this was enough to dislodge the dead walker from Grace and allow the other woman to get hold of the big grab bar beside the door and swing to the side. Pushing the door wide, Al got her hands on the inner rail above the door and kicked out with both feet. Both bare feet.

She contacted the first walker in the center of the chest and it fell back. The second was closer, almost too close. Al let her momentum carry her back and when she swung forward again, she caught this one around the neck squeezing her knees together and twisting. She felt its neck break and pushed it away.

Al was looking at Grace wondering where she had found the steel pipe she was holding when Grace's eyes shifted over Al's shoulder in surprise and fear. Al ducked when Grace began to swing the pipe. It passed over her head with only inches to spare, made a wet smack when it contacted the head of something already dead, then a large clang when the follow through brought it in contact with the MRAP.

Gore splattered the back of Al's T-shirt. She remained crouched catching her breath and watching as Grace jumped down from the steps. She held the pipe low with two hands and slightly to the side. Stepping forward purposefully, she swung the pipe forward, almost like a golf club, into the head of the last walker. Looking at Al, Grace shrugged.

"Cricket."

Al didn't have much time to laugh. "What happened?"

"Someone left the gate open, I think," Grace gestured with the pipe. "More coming."

Al could see a rifle on the ground near Grace with a couple of magazines close to it. She snatched it up but, when she pulled the trigger, nothing happened.

"I couldn't get it to work!" Grace moved in front of Al and swung her weapon in an upward arc that nearly took the head off the nearest walker.

Al felt for the selector switch with her thumb and could tell it was in the fire position. _Tap, rack, bang!_ Her mind spit out. Al hit the bottom of the magazine hard with her palm and pulled the charging handle all the way back and released it. The bolt shot forward and she squeezed the trigger again.

Still nothing. With Grace fighting in front of her, Al propped the buttstock of the rifle against her hip, locked the bolt open, released the magazine, and took a quick look into the chamber. It was empty. She looked at the top of the magazine and finally found the problem. The topmost round in the mag was jammed too far down for the bolt to catch. With her thumb she pushed down and jiggled it. The cartridge popped back up into place.

Al replaced the magazine and slapped the heel of her hand on the bolt catch. This time she could feel the bolt strip the round off the magazine and ram it into battery. Moving past Grace, Al brought the rifle up and aligned the iron sights. She took single deliberate head shots none of them missing their mark. Backing up she found one of the other magazines with her toes and reloaded.

She only fired a couple rounds before there were no more targets. Al flipped the rifle's sling over her shoulder and tried to slip the third mag into her pocket; found she had no pockets. She looked down past her boxer shorts at her bare thighs and mud-covered feet. It was raining and she hadn't noticed.

Grace was leaning over hands on her knees catching her breath. "You were in the army. You must have been…" she broke off out of air and just gestured at the rifle in Al's hands.

"No, I've had training."

"What training?" Alicia had appeared behind Grace. The broken machine gun barrel shroud she carried as a weapon dripping gore. She looked Al up and down, started to say something smart.

Al didn't let her. "How to kick ass bare foot and in your underwear, advanced level."

Later

The cleanup from the herd of gatecrashers had taken a couple hours and when they were finished, Al, like everyone else was filthy. They had showers now with cold or, at the most, lukewarm water, and Al had managed to get in and out quickly avoiding the other women and especially Alicia.

She had decided to move her van toward the back of the factory closer to the antenna. Even though she was careful to disconnect the wire that ran between her radio and the antenna mast every morning before daylight, tonight was the night and she would take no chances someone would start asking questions. More questions.

Alicia, it turned out, was not that easy to avoid.

"You moved."

Al had finished a few simple stretches and was sitting on her sleeping bag and pad on the floor of the MRAP about to lay down for a nap.

"When I cleaned the blood and stuff off the steps, there was a stinky puddle. I'm not into stinky right now." Al hoped her explanation was plausible enough. Besides there had been a smelly puddle, several in fact. One of them was vomit.

"Everything stinks, Al." Alicia thumped up the steps and dropped down on the end of Al's sleeping bag.

"Is that meant literally or as a metaphor for life as it is now?"

"Both, I think," Alicia sighed and settled her back against the row of seats behind her, legs out straight. Al did the same on the other side and they faced each other. "I miss my mom and my brother. Even though there were times I hated him, I would give anything to have him back here right now to hate."

Al came very close to admitting to Alicia they had something very much in common. Nick had been an addict, in and out of rehab, her brother Jesse had a different vice, stealing. He had been conveniently away in juvenile detention when Al was taken off to what she thought of now as her 'Jesus Intervention'. He would not have allowed that to happen to her, she knew.

I don't know," Alicia continued, "I mean if you gave me back my old life now, I'm not sure I'd want it. It all seems so trivial now." She looked up meeting Al's eyes.

"You've grown up, Alicia. You're not the same person you were then. Not that I knew you then."

"You would've hated me then, Al. All I cared about was my boyfriend and going to the beach and my phone. Fucks sake!" Even though the words were bitter, the curse at the end was self-depreciating.

"I wasn't any better, I…"

"Hell, you were!" Alicia cut off Al's reply. "After what you'd been through, I bet you grew up fast. I'm just not sure how you could keep going after all of that. That man attacking you, your roommate dying and leaving you feeling guilty. That would be too much heavy shit for me to bear at seventeen or eighteen."

Al sighed taking a minute to put her thoughts together. "Oh, I did grow up fast, for sure. After the spectacular failure of my Jesus Intervention," Al paused and acknowledged Alicia's smile with one of her own, "my mother was a study in suppressed rage."

"Don't I know what that's like," Alicia interjected.

"She was horrified about my assault," Al continued. "And furious at the man who did it to me and herself for not giving me the tools I needed to properly defend myself. 'Don't hit him just once, Althea,' she said. 'Hit him enough times that he doesn't get up. End it.'"

"There's a few girls in horror movies that could use that advice!" Alicia said and they shared a chuckle.

"I spent some time wondering what my mother's issues were after that. Too bad I never got a chance to ask her," Al's thoughts turned inward when she realized now she never would. Shaking it off she continued. "So, after, my injuries had healed enough and before I was due to start college, she sent me off to a life skills boot camp or as I thought of it, the "How Not to be a Victim Through Intensive Training With Weapons of Murderous Intent" camp."

"Ah," Alicia said. "That was the training you meant."

"I've done a few follow up weapons courses over the years too."

"Sounds like fun. Me, as I am now, would've loved it. Too bad there wasn't a "How Not to be Eaten When the Dead Rise" camp back then. There might be more of us around." Alicia paused, waiting, so Al continued.

"I didn't realize at first that almost everyone who was there had had something happen to them that made them want to learn to fight back. There were a few that were just there for the weapons training, or maybe they would just never admit having been made a victim, I don't know for sure. I learned to shoot and to fight with a knife and how to defend myself from attacks with those weapons and lots of other general badassery."

"Yup, I totally woulda loved that," Alicia was smiling.

"What made the biggest impression on me, I think, was realizing that everyone had a story and those stories were important. There were times when the kids would just talk and a lot of them talked to me. We were mainly late teens with a few in their twenties. One of the instructors had a video camera and liked to shoot what she called "Abject Failure Shorts" to teach us what we were doing wrong so I got to thinking that would be great for interviewing the other kids to preserve their stories. I didn't do it then, of course, all of that came later. This was just the seed taking root in my head and when it did, getting the story did for me what music used to."

They were quiet for a time after that and Al thought Alicia might leave her to her nap.

"What was your abject failure?"

Al hadn't expected that.

"My abject failure… let's see." Al let her mind range backward in time. "Oh right, I remember. She made a video of me running through an obstacle course. When she played it in the classroom, I was horrified but when I think of it now, it was funny and makes me laugh."

"So?"

"'Alsap, you run like a goose! Your arms are flapping so much it's a wonder you don't take flight!'" Al quoted.

"Alsap?"

"That was from the first day." Al was still smiling at the memories. "She couldn't pronounce my last names. 'I'm not touching that with a ten-foot pierogi!' So, she called me Al S-P or Alsap." Al paused, breathed out slowly. "God, I had one hell of a crush on her."

"Oh, yeah?" Alicia leaned forward her interest piqued.

"Yeah. That camp gave me back my confidence and taught me a lot of things. It also put to rest innocent Althea in more ways than one."

"Really?" Alicia's eyes were bright.

"Really. It didn't happen then; she would never cross the line that separated student and instructor. It was later, when I was in college. We had kept in touch by email. Besides just crushing on her, she was easy to talk to. I had told her what happened to me and she told me something like that had happened to her too. She spent a lot of time at the camp unofficially teaching the girls how not to be a victim and dispelling all those myths around femininity that serve no purpose other than to make us easy prey."

Alicia looked ready to push for details, then realized Al wouldn't go farther.

"She was my first. We had one of those on-again off-again relationships for a couple of years." Al concluded. "Eventually I lost contact with her. After college I was travelling a lot. I went from one story to the next and didn't have space in my life for anything much, or anyone else for very long."

"Kinda sounds like an empty life to me," Alicia let the words hang in the air. Unbidden, Al pictured a blinking cursor on a blank computer screen waiting for human input.

"Stories are important. Not just to me, to everyone."

"That's what you tell yourself."

"You sound like my therapist!" Al stared at Alicia. She could feel heat colouring her cheeks. It wasn't a feeling she liked. "And here I was thinking you had come here because _you_ wanted to talk."

"I did and I do," Alicia put her hand on Al's foot, gave it a squeeze. "I can listen just as well as talk and maybe you need that too. Maybe even more than me."

_Puzzle pieces_, Al thought. _We are all made up of puzzle pieces that need to be fitted together._

Al was silent a long time imagining the pieces of her own self all tumbling from her hand to land in disorder on an empty table top.

"Do you remember what I said to you when I first met you?"

Alicia frowned. "I'd rather forget that time, but yeah, I remember. You said 'So, what's your story?' Your signature line."

"Only it's not mine. I borrowed it." Al closed her eyes. If Alicia realized she did this whenever the topic was painful for Al she didn't say.

"There was a time a few years ago, before this, before the end of everything, when I just sort of hit a wall. I was staying at the house in Santa Fe that some of us that travelled a lot shared so we would always have some place to go back to. I had been back from an assignment for a few days when one morning I couldn't get out of bed. There just didn't seem to be any reason to and it felt safer to stay there. A couple days went by and I didn't need a reason anymore, I just didn't care. I slept a lot, didn't eat much. I hated the daylight; I just kept the curtains closed and if I left my room it was at night in the dark when no one was around to bother me. I turned my phone off and never touched my laptop."

Al paused again, wiped her hand over her face roughly and looked at Alicia.

"I might never have come out of it except one day, one of my friends was sitting on my bed. I tried to ignore him. Didn't work. 'I know you won't talk to me Al so there's this woman I know who helped me and she's willing to talk to you whenever. I also know you've had help before. If you will get out of bed, have a shower, get dressed I'll drive you to see her.'"

"You went?"

"Yeah, not that day the next and in the evening when the sun didn't hurt my eyes so much. There was an outdoor café with a back area where there were a couple of private tables. I had a coffee and waited. When she sat down, she said…"

"What's your story?"

Al grinned openly at Alicia.

"She was gorgeous. Short blonde hair, green eyes and the most incredible smile. The first thing I thought was that this was never going to work."

"Because you were attracted to her?"

"I only realized much later that, for some reason, I actually found it easier to talk to her because of that. It took a while. I don't know how many times we met and drank coffee and talked. She didn't have an office, she wasn't practicing. She was accredited but she no longer counseled people officially and I never paid her. She was kind of unconventional, I guess. I think she had been burned by a client at some point and had given up official practice."

"Did she help you?"

"Yes, I got over my depression…"

"But? I sense a _but_ here, Al."

Al was looking down, wouldn't meet the other woman's eyes.

"Alicia, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have started this… I don't think I can…"

Alicia leaned forward and patted Al's thigh. "It's ok…"

"I didn't realize this would be so difficult. What we worked out after all that time together was so simple and I accepted it. I took the advice and moved on. It's just that until recently I never realized what it really meant."

There was a shout outside; someone was calling Alicia.

"I have to go… I'm supposed to go on a run," Alicia said. But she didn't move.

Al tried to frame the words properly, failed.

"Puzzle pieces. We are all puzzle pieces and one of mine is missing."

Alicia opened her mouth, closed it. And then it didn't matter. Morgan was at the door of the van urging her to come on, hurry up, let's go.

"I'm really tired. I think I need to lay down for a while," Al said. By then Alicia was gone.

Al lay on the floor of the van and stared at the wall. When she had first returned to the mill after the flight over the mountains, she had been so consumed with Isabel's story that she unconsciously pushed away all the longing she had felt for Isabel the woman, and fell back on what she knew: the story. She had wanted to create one of those diagrams on the wall of the van like people did in movies with pictures and snippets all connected with lines of string by pegs. CRM, the three circles, the maps, all the weird things Isabel had said about working to make a better future, her weird uniform and all the veiled threats.

Al had written down every word she remembered being said and when she read the words, she began to remember the emotion. Remember the tears on Isabel's face when she said, "I want you to live!"

So many times Al had been willing to die for a story. This time she had been willing die because she was willing to choose something else other than the story.

_However long it takes you to pull that trigger I'll know I chose something other than the story. _

Her mind kept churning up that moment and the more she thought about it, the more the need to get the story began to fade. For once in her life there had been more than just the story and she was forced to face it; that a choice had to be made. She had taken out Isabel's note and read it again, and again. And she allowed herself to believe.

'_How many times have you been in love, Al?' Carmen, her last therapist, had asked her._

'_I've had relationships.'_

'_How long have those lasted?'_

_Al had to think about that. 'The longest was eighteen months. No, maybe a year.' _

'_And you were in love?'_

'_I cared about her. We were good together.'_

'_Why did she leave?'_

_Al had sat still unable to move as the memory came back to her. She had been packing to leave, checking her camera bag. _

'_When are you coming back?' _

'_I don't know. It might be awhile.' _

'_I won't be here.'_

_Al didn't get it at first. 'I'll call you then.' _

'_No, don't bother.' _

_Al had stopped packing and stared at the woman she had cared about. 'I'm not going to die. I'll be back.' 'I'm sorry, Al. That's not good enough. I need someone whose love doesn't stop and start at the whim of a story.' _

'_Did that hurt you?' Carmen asked._

_Al had shrugged noncommittal. The truth was she had pretty well forgotten the girl by the time the plane landed somewhere far away._

'_Were there more like her?'_

'_No, I stopped trying after that. I didn't need the bother.' _

_Carmen had actually looked almost angry at that. 'Love is not a bother Al, it completes us. You have your career and the esteem that goes with it, and those are all the things you think you need. On some level I believe you know; you know what's missing. Why do you think you wanted to hide in the dark?'_

'_Because I couldn't cope. I'm better now, though, thank you.' Al had started to get up; Carmen had caught her hand. It was obvious Carmen didn't believe that explanation._

'_I know you're attracted to me, Al, and, honestly, I feel the same about you. But I could never be with you. Because you would always put your job ahead of everything and I don't just mean me. You have let your work define you and by doing so you lost the ability to give love on anything more than the most superficial level. Love is the missing piece, Al.' _

'_I don't… I don't need…'_

'_You don't think you need because you've never let yourself truly feel. Truly feel what it's like to need and want. To desire. Desire someone on a level deeper than just simple sex. Sex is about the body; making love is about the heart. Have you ever really made love to anyone, Al?'_

'_I don't know…I just…I can't…' Al's voice was barely there._

'_Yes, you do. You have all the tools you just refuse to use them. Loving isn't taking, it's letting go. Step out from behind those walls you've built and open your heart. Let your heart lead, not your mind. I hope someday you can find someone who can make you really feel. Feeling is good, Al. Love is important. I hope whoever she is she can make you see that choosing love might help you put in that one missing piece of you that will make you complete.' _

_Carmen had been gone for some time before Al saw it on the table; the puzzle piece. Not an end piece but one of the ones that connected on all sides and fit in the heart of the puzzle. _

Later

Al checked the time on the watch fob. 03:53

Outside it was raining and somewhat foggy. Fearing Alicia might appear out of the gloom like some ghost, Al had covered the radio with a T-shirt to block out the light, and made a hiding spot behind the driver's seat with her sleeping bag. She had replaced her headphones with a set from the plane. The kind that had a microphone attached.

And she waited.

03:57

Al was trying to convince herself that she would be OK if Isabel didn't contact her when the hum of static was replaced by a series of clicks. She sat up and pressed the headphones tight to her ears. After what seemed like forever there was a voice. A voice she recognized even though the tone was far more gentle than she remembered.

"Hey, it's Happy. You there?"

Al jammed her finger against the back of the seat trying to find the transmit button on the headphone cord.

"Ouch. Yeah, I'm here," she couldn't think of what else to say. _'How are you?'_ seemed inadequate. _'Yeah, I'm fine. Almost got eaten today, but I'm good,_' was a bit too descriptive.

"You followed my rambling instructions, I guess. I'm sorry about all that other stuff. I got emotional. Doesn't happen often."

Al could feel the smile behind those words. "I like emotional. Emotional kissed me and I've never been kissed like that."

"Me either." There was only static for a moment then Isabel continued. "I thought I could let you go but it was harder than I thought. Harder than I was willing to accept."

"Me too."

Al was forming something to say when Isabel spoke again. "Listen if we get cutoff, if I have to leave all of a sudden, I should be back on tomorrow night. Same time."

"OK," for a long moment all Al could do was breath. He chest felt tight and her mind seemed unable to process all the input her heart was generating.

"I've been thinking too much, feeling too much," Al finally said. "And I don't think I can bear it. It's crazy."

"I know," Isabel sighed over the airwaves. "Love is crazy."

Al had started to sing before she could think about it; before her mind registered what her heart had already heard.

"_I can feel your heartbeat for a thousand miles, and the heavens open every time you smile, and when I come to you that's where I belong, yeah, I'm running to you like the river's song. You give me love, love, love, love, crazy love. You give me love, love, love, love, crazy love. I need you in the daytime I need you in the night, Yeah, I want to throw my arms around you kiss and hug you, kiss and hug you tight."_

There was static for so long Al thought she had lost Isabel.

"God, Al." Isabel's voice when it came was soft, barely audible. "You don't know what you do to me; I can't think."

"Yes, I do. You do it to me. Don't think just feel."

"Feeling is killing me."

"Then we will die together,"

Isabel had keyed her mike to speak, but before she could, Al heard a background noise like a man's voice. "Gotta go." Isabel said and Al was once more listening to static.


	4. So Are You to Me

Chapter 4 So Are You to Me

Al was walking along a corridor in the main building having just eaten a meal that would constitute her breakfast, lunch and supper when, just before rounding a corner, she stopped.

"…so we can reach more people." Morgan was saying.

"Right," someone huffed. A sound and a voice Al had become very familiar with. And the tone – disapproval, derision? – was plain to her.

"Alicia, it's the right thing to do." Seemed Morgan got it too. "We need to give back; make up for the things we've done."

There was a sound like bootheel hitting the floor hard.

"I don't know what it is that you think I've done, Morgan." Al could imagine Alicia was gritting her teeth. "I've protected people. I've fought when I needed too. If I went too far, and maybe I did once, I've made my peace and accepted it. And the person I tried to hurt is OK now too."

"Everyone has conflicts, we just need to…"

"Conflicts?" Alicia's voice had risen sharply. "Is that what you think this is? A conflict? The world is dead, Morgan! Everyone is dead!"

"That's not what I meant, Alicia. I just want to help you understand…" Morgan's tone had turned…

"Don't you patronize me!" There was a rustle like Alicia was pushing Morgan away or perhaps pushing away his hand from her arm. "I'm sick of Righteous Morgan who knows what everyone needs and how, if we just offer up a box of stuff, everything will be right with the world."

There was a long pause broken by a shuffle of boots. Al drew back against the wall hoping if one of the two people came around the corner it would be Alicia.

"Alicia, your mother would have wanted…"

"My mother?" Alicia's voice was savage. "Don't you talk to me about my mother and what she wanted! You didn't know her. And you know what," there was a sort of smack that Al imagined was Alicia's finger jabbing Morgan in the chest. "If my mother was here, she'd know what to do. She'd tell you that helping people is fine as long as the first person you help is yourself and after that your friends. You keep your friends safe."

Morgan was silent so long Al thought he might have walked away.

"We've all lost people, Alicia. I have, you have, and we learn to…"

_Uh, oh,_ Al thought. _That was the wrong thing to say._

"What? Move on?" Alicia was downright vicious now and Al started to think about where the nearest first aid kit was in case Alicia punched him. Or, perhaps, eviscerated him. "Like you really are standing there saying that to me?"

There was a shuffling of feet and Al hoped that Morgan had the good sense to walk away.

"You know what, you're right Morgan. I haven't let them go. You know why? Cause I don't want to. Cause as long as my mother is here, right here," Al imagined Alicia tapping her chest. "I won't lose myself. She won't let me."

There was silence then the sound of someone walking away.

Al had started to turn away, to walk back the way she had come, when Alicia plowed into her.

"Al! Were you listening?"

"Umm…" was all Al could get out before Alicia grabbed her jacket.

"You know what? I hope you were. That stupid…" Alicia was looking over her shoulder, back the way Morgan had gone. "Never mind," she looked at Al again. "You got anything else to drink in your truck? I could use a fucking drink right about now."

Al sighed.

Later

They were sitting much as they had the day before. This time, though, Al had piled some loaded kitbags behind her back and Alicia had a scrunched-up sleeping bag.

"I wish this was back in the normal time again," Alicia said and took a drink from the bottle of wine Al had found. "We could listen to the radio and just chill. Talk about shit or just nothing, you know."

_There's no network, sweetheart. The audience is dead. _

Al wanted to say 'tell me about your mother', but she wanted Alicia to come to that on her own.

"Morgan doesn't know shit," Alicia handed the bottle to Al.

"He knows what he's lost. He just can't get to the point where he lets it go," Al took a drink; held on to the bottle. "I heard what you told him about holding your mother in your heart."

"Yeah, she's there. Nick too. Doesn't mean I've accepted their deaths."

Al handed the bottle to Alicia. Waited. It took Alicia awhile; Al watched her jaw work. Watched the tears start. Alicia had been working through something and Al could tell it was all about to come out.

"Nick…" Alicia started. "That was just so fucking stupid and useless!" She sniffed loudly. "You know, you were there."

"I was."

"And mom… what the hell was that? Why would someone **do** that?! **Why did she do that?! I just don't understand!"**

The last was shouted and the words slammed into Al's chest like an out of control truck. Al took a deep breath and held out her hand for the bottle. Later, when she thought about, Al realized she wasn't really surprised by what Alicia did.

Alicia crawled into Al's arms.

With her head tucked under Al's chin, her cheek was against Al's chest. One arm made it around Al's waist, and her other hand grabbed Al's hand and pressed it to her own chest. Alicia didn't speak, didn't sob, she trembled.

With her free hand, Al pulled Alicia's head tighter to her chest. One knee supported Alicia's lower back the other Alicia's pulled up legs.

"I won't try to explain it, Alicia, because I don't know either. She made a choice. Did what she thought she had to do." Al whispered. There weren't many other words worth saying just: "Let go, I've got you."

Alicia huffed like she couldn't breathe. Al stroked her hair gently. The huffs changed to something like grunts, then to sobs – tight, hard sobs. And with the sobs came strangled words.

"Why? Why is everything so stupid? Why did this happen?! I don't understand! Why is it all so crazy? I don't want to die like that! All for nothing!"

Then the words were gone and Alicia just cried and Al cried too. For Alicia, for her brother, for Jesse and for all of them.

Later

It was near midnight and Al had left Alicia asleep in her van. She was walking around the perimeter fence carrying the rifle. After two full circuits, Al returned to the MRAP. Alicia was still asleep so she decided to clean the rifle. Humming to herself, Al separated the upper and lower receiver and pulled the bolt carrier group free of the upper.

Alicia stirred and turned toward Al. She didn't say anything, just watched Al disassemble the bolt, scrub its parts with a bristle brush.

Al was cleaning the barrel when Alicia finally spoke.

"Thank you for that."

"It's OK…" Al used a small penlight to look down the barrel keeping her eyes from meeting Alicia's. She was beginning to worry that Alicia would still be here at 04:00. There was no hurrying the younger woman though, that would be cruel.

"I don't like crying."

Al reinserted the front pivot pin and reattached the upper onto the lower. Giving the bolt a final wipe, she dropped the firing pin back in and inserted the firing pin retaining cotter pin and the bolt cam pin. She then put the bolt back in the bolt carrier. Holding the bolt carrier, she flicked her wrist and the rotating part of the bolt snapped out just the half inch it was meant too. Al let it slide along the charging handle back into the upper receiver. With a final satisfying snap, she mated the upper to the lower and secured the rear pivot pin.

"Me either."

Al ran through a couple of dry fires moving the bolt back and forth to the spread the lubricant around.

"What's your missing piece, Al?"

Al looked down at the rifle, turned it in her hands.

"Not that," Alicia smiled. "Though you would find that much easier, wouldn't you?"

"A whole hell of a lot easier, yeah."

"It's OK, Al you don't have to…" Alicia didn't finish the thought just stood and looked down at Al. Reaching out she squeezed Al's shoulder. "I think I kinda might know." Leaning down she kissed Al, this time on the mouth. The kiss lasted longer than Al expected for a simple good bye or a 'thank you for being kind to me kiss'. Not long enough for Al to want to push Alicia away, though.

When Alicia was gone, Al sat for a while holding the rifle and wondering how her life had gotten so damn complicated. For so long she had kept her heart walled off from everyone. Now there was Isabel who had knocked out enough bricks to make a gap big enough to crawl through; crawl right into her heart. And Alicia, what was that all about? Al had to admit there was some attraction; Alicia had that independent attitude Al liked in a girl, but it was just that, Alicia was still a girl to Al no matter what she had told June.

_And I'm wrong for her. I could never her love her on the level she needs and that's not fair to her. _

Setting the rifle aside she stood and stretched trying to shake it all off. The time on her watch fob next to the radio read 02:05.

_Dammit! This is killing me. _

She left the MRAP then and took a fast walk around stopping only to find a private place to empty her bladder. Walking again, she breathed deeply of the cool, somewhat damp air. There was heat lightning away to the north again.

Back in the MRAP Al sat in the driver's seat and thought about her brother.

It wasn't a friend who got her out of bed and to a meeting with a therapist. It was Jesse.

'_You're hurting, Al. Let me help.'_

_Al looked at him for a long time; finally spoke. 'Everything's hard, Jesse and I'm so confused.'_

'_I've been there, girl. A couple times." His smile was genuine. 'You gotta let someone help you. Carmen is good, really good.' Jesse took his sister's hand and rubbed it between his own. _

_Al sighed. 'How'd you get so wise?' _

'_I finally decided to get my shit together and grow up.' He did a fair impression of their father: 'Jesse, give that head of yours a shake! It's on too tight and you're not thinking.'_

_Al laughed at that. _

_Jesse released her hand and gave her shoulder a nudge. 'Push over.'_

'_What?'_

'_Push over let me in there with you.' _

_Not waiting any further, Jesse pulled the blanket back and got in the bed with Al. He lay his head on her shoulder, draped an arm across her belly. Al felt like crying. Instead she watched the ceiling fan trace steady circles as shadows shifted along the wall. _

'_If I get a hard on, I'll leave. Promise.'_

'_What? Shit, gross Jesse! Jesus!'_

_Jesse was laughing. 'Whadaya mean, gross? Yer the one puts her face between a girl's legs and licks her…' _

_Al cut him off. 'And you don't?' She poked his ribs. _

'_Sometimes. If she wants me to.'_

_A long time passed. The fan spun and the shadows shifted farther on the wall. _

'_I'll go, Jesse. I'll go.' _

'_Good.'_

_Al could've stopped there but she felt more was needed._

'_You're the best thing in my life, you know. The best medicine for me.'_

'_So are you to me. So are you to me.' _

Al pinched the bridge of her nose hard and dropped her forehead onto the steering wheel.

_And when it mattered, I failed you too._

She envied Alicia her release. The girl had cried herself out against Al's chest. Al had let her own tears flow, though she was more restrained.

_Yeah, I'm so fucking restrained! _

It had served her well in her career, restraint. A calm interviewer encouraged a calm interviewee. What's best for the story. Always.

_Sucks for life though. Nothing like keeping a straight face when another girl walks out the door. What did she matter anyway?_

Al raised her head a couple inches dropped her forehead on the steering wheel again._ If Jesse were here, I think, I hope, he'd understand_. _Maybe now, even if it was too late for him to know, I've found someone who's made me truly understand what's been missing and he would_…Al sat up straight, eyes wide open.

He'd be happy for her. Happy. For. Her.

_Who is this chick, Al? Who is this girl that's got your heart beating so hard? How long has it taken you to finally feel something real? _

He would hug her, really squeeze her tight and smile his big shit eating grin at her.

He would…no, not now he wouldn't. Not now. He was gone.

Al closed her eyes again and thought about how she had pressed the Bog # 7 tape into Isabel's hand wanting her brother to live if she died. And what would he want?

_He would want me to live if he died. Pretty damn simple when you thought about it. _

A bit later

Al opened her eyes and yawned.

03:58

"Shit!"

She scrambled around switching on the radio, getting the headphones on her head and making sure her window was rolled up tight. When she dropped a T-shirt over the light from the radio, the cab went dark. Outside there was a bright flash and, after a few seconds thunder rumbled. Al turned up the volume and static hissed in her ears.

Like the night before, a series of clicks preceded Isabel's voice.

"It's me, you there?"

"I'm here."

"You sound tired."

"It's been a har… It's been an emotional day." Al paused. It would take too long to try to explain.

_A girl I've come to really care, for and even admire, cried herself to sleep on my chest then kissed me. Then I thought about my brother and I cried. Yeah, just bit tired. _

"I'm OK now. Now that you're here."

Isabel gave a soft chuckle. 'You know I've been thinking about you, trying to keep your face in my mind. Trying not to forget what your eyes were like, your hands… I know that sounds nuts. I'm sure all you remember of me was my hand holding a gun in your face."

"No, that's not what I remember. I remember that when you smiled you were beautiful and all the other stuff went away."

"I don't deserve someone like you, Al. You were so brave and I was just a coward with a gun who couldn't look you in the face. It hurts, really, really hurts me to think about that. 'Operational stupid security.' Stupid mission, stupid orders, stupid me."

"You're not stupid and you're defiantly not a coward. You're here talking to me now, aren't you? At what risk? You didn't just let me go, you reached out. That was brave. And I don't follow orders remember?" Al tried to let the smile show in her voice. "Hey, listen. We both had jobs we thought we needed to do, and in the end, it didn't stop you from taking a big chance with me and it didn't stop me from thinking there might be something more with you."

"And here we are."

"I am here and you are there."

"No," Isabel's voice strengthened. "I'm there with you. Beside you."

"Can I curl up in your lap?"

Isabel chuckled. "Oh, yeah. That would be… that would be sweet."

Al thought Isabel had wanted to use a different word than sweet. Something more charged. Sexually charged.

"I have to warn you though, I purr. When I'm happy."

"I'll try not to give you too much catnip then."

Al laughed softly the sound deep in her throat. Her body was tense, electric. She knew Isabel felt the same way.

"You're like a drug to me, you know." Isabel said softly. "You make me feel so much I haven't felt before."

"And so are you to me, so are you to me."

They were both quiet for a time. Al was imagining Isabel's neck and how she would move her mouth along Isabel's jaw and lower still to find that tender spot just at her collar bone.

"Al, I've been going through a lot. Really thinking. This place it isn't really all that… I've begun to think it's not what I thought it was. Not what I let myself believe it was. And you're not here. Not that I'd want you to be. You're too good for here. I think… I think I might leave. Except…"

When Isabel didn't finish, Al finished for her.

"Except no one just walks away."

"Yeah, that." I'm working on it. Just let me work on it."

"OK."

"Nothing can keep me away, you know, nothing but time. You're too strong; too strong in my blood."

"And so are you to me. So are you to me, Isabel."

Al felt the name drop off her tongue for the first time and splatter in her lap. Sweet liquid.

"Thursday," Isabel said. "I'll be back on Thursday morning. Same time. OK?"

"OK."

"Bye."

"Bye."

Al left the radio on for a few more minutes until the empty static got to her. When she clicked it off, she sat in silence until, with an unearthly whoosh, the rain began. Sighing deeply Al let her head drop against the seat.

_If you were here, here right now, I'd take you in the back and make love to you. Then I'd know what I've been missing and maybe I'd be complete. _


	5. In My Veins

Chapter 5 In My Veins

Isabel pushed the bits of rehydrated scrambled eggs around on her plate eventually forming them into a sharp-edged square. Taking a bite of bread, she chewed and closed her eyes feeling fatigue set in.

Since coming off duty in the radio room earlier this morning she had only been able to sleep fitfully. Her mind felt jumbled, too many loose pieces and not enough glue to get them all to stick together. She had always craved structure. Looking down at the eggs on her plate in their neat box, Isabel almost gagged.

Structure certainly defined this place as it had her career. Air force academy graduate, top ten of her class; a pilot, and now a major. All good, everything moving along in a linear order. If she had been a man, a wife and kids would fit into the picture. Just like the 1950's and nothing like she could ever actually have, so she stuck to the rest; what she could achieve. Always following the orders and never questioning what was behind them. 'Need to know', her superiors always said. Before Al, she had accepted that because it was easier. She had drunk deep from the well of shared purpose; let someone else draw up the plans, and bought it when they sold her the 'it's for the greater good' deal.

Looking up she studied the people around her. There were a few officers like her of various military backgrounds. They all wore similar uniforms on base. T-shirts, cargo pants in dull colours like the grey Isabel wore. No visible indicators of rank; everyone knew who the officers and the high-ranking civilians were. The junior ranks, and the lowest of the low, the civilian support staff, didn't eat here. They had their own mess. _Class structure_. Isabel had never minded it when she served; back before the end of everything. Now it just irked her. _Why did it matter where people ate? We are all supposed to be a team, aren't we?_

The ranked civilians, the scientists and the ones everyone called in a hushed tone the 'operatives', came in and out of the officers' mess on their own schedule. A lot of them wore lab coats, some, it seemed, whatever they wanted. This set them apart and, she had realized, it was done deliberately to make them stand out; make everyone else elevate their status. _Psychological mumbo jumbo_. The same sort of drivel she had tried to tell Al: _'It's bigger than me, bigger than you, it's bigger than all of us; this is about rebuilding the future and what we once all had; we are a force who are not living for ourselves or for now; that's why I killed him, I was just doing my job.' _

The irony of that last statement seized Isabel's gut and, like the structured eggs on her plate, made her feel sick. Given enough brainwashing, a good person could be pushed to kill a friend all for the concept of a greater good, a higher mission. Like me, Isabel thought. Doing my duty and thinking I was brave and loyal when all I really was, was a goddamned coward and fool for believing in all this.

A laugh from across the room made her head snap up. Isabel stood up quickly, trying to turn away from the electric gaze that shifted her way, but it was too late, she had been spotted.

She watched the woman approach her from the other side of the room holding her eyes, tight, pinned, like she was prey and the tall, dark haired woman the hunter.

Just like the first time they had met; met officially that was.

Isabel had been watching her in the gym when they were both working out. The woman was an operative and Isabel begun putting labels on her like enigmatic, mysterious. Most of the others of her kind were just shadows around the base, quiet and unassuming. This woman stood out and Isabel was sure she wanted it that way. She wore her dark hair with odd, long bangs and her eyes were wide spaced not unlike Isabel's own. And she had a nice body. Sharp, with curves and muscles.

Isabel would hang around the gym sitting on some piece of equipment pretending to use it when the woman and several others formed into a group to do yoga over on the mats.

She was fluid and grace; absolutely easy in her own body. Combined with the air of mystery and, what Isabel came to see later, a restrained power, Isabel found her intensely physically attractive.

When the woman had approached her table that first time, Isabel has had sat still, waited.

"Captain Marvel," the other woman had sat across from her, leaned back, crossed her legs. Isabel was just about to speak and correct the demotion when the woman continued. "You and I are the same kind of bird," her smile was all slick and cool. Seductive.

"And what is that?" Isabel fought to keep her voice steady. She hadn't expected a lesson in ornithology.

"The kind that's into chicks."

_Well that was subtle. Not!_

"You should come see me some time," the woman had then recited a section and room number. "Tonight, at nine, would be nice. We can have a drink… talk." The snap that she gave the word _talk_ made it clear there would be way more than conversation.

Isabel had not had time to say _yes_ or _no_ or _can I bring anything_? before the woman was gone. And Isabel went to see her that night, like she was being dragged by some sort of compulsion. What surprised her was that there_ was_ talk, a lot of talk. Mostly the woman talked about herself, but sometimes there were startling insights. She really knew how to get into someone's head and other places too. There was just a long buildup to that.

"Anne." Isabel said sitting back down as the dark-haired woman sat across from her.

"I heard about your partner," Anne's tone was soft, consoling. "I'm sorry."

Isabel nodded trying to conceal her surprise. The information about Beckett should have stayed within Mission Operations an area that Anne had nothing to do with. She was Covert Ops.

"Hey," Anne leaned forward, touched Isabel's hand. "Come see me tonight," she turned her hand over and stroked the back of Isabel's hand with her knuckles. Isabel breathed in; that touch was nothing if not electric; and demanding.

Isabel started to make some excuse about having something else to do. Anne saw through it of course. "More important than me? You are off duty, aren't you?"

With Anne there could never be an excuse, Isabel realized with a jolt. To put her off would make her curious, and a curious Anne was a nosy Anne, and a nosy Anne found out things. Lots of things. Secret things like what really went on in the radio room at night. In fact, when she thought about it, Anne seemed to know something about everyone. Something about everything. It would not surprise Isabel in the least if Anne knew what went on down over the hill.

_Down over the hill_ was how everyone referred to the secure area where the scientists and ranked civilians worked. It was off limits to everyone, even Covert Ops. Rules and protocol never stopped Anne; if she wanted to find out something she would. And she wouldn't be put off.

"I thought so," Anne smiled her wide, knowing smile that was so unlike Al's sweet gentleness. "See you later then," Anne turned and paused. Swiveling back around she looked down at Isabel's plate. "Finish all your eggs. Protocol, you know, don't take more than you can eat."

With a suggestive smile she was gone.

Isabel stared at the eggs. The thought of eating them made her nauseous. Unfortunately, there was no convenient potted plant to surreptitiously scrap the remains into. Her stomach felt like it had on her first solo flight. Nervous, maybe even afraid. Aircraft were one thing, though, and that fear was only a fear of failure.

Scooping some cold eggs into her mouth she chewed and swallowed mechanically. She needed to start thinking of Al as a mission. _Mission Escape to Al_, her mind conjured. _Silly,_ she told herself, even if it was appropriate. She needed to focus, look at each thing, each event, between the end goal of being with Al, as just another step to be taken.

Even a step like spending a night with Anne, the woman who had become her sometimes lover. The dark, unknowable and dangerous Anne.

Later

Isabel had her hand raised ready to knock when the door opened. Anne had an uncanny way of doing that.

"Come in," Anne stepped aside.

Anne's room, like some of the other civilians, was decorated. Unlike the Mission Operators, the civilians were allowed to pick up things when they were out in the field. With Anne it was always something different. Isabel looked around the room. There was art on the walls and a few sculptures here and there. Isabel picked up a cat. It was metal. Made of wire and somewhat rusted plates. Amateurish, but not childish.

"Do you like it? One of my personas is an artist of maybe an art teacher."

Anne had what she called personas. After knowing Anne for a while, Isabel just thought of them as fractured parts of Anne's own personality. Anne took them very seriously, liked to move in and out of them fluidly.

Isabel replaced the cat carefully. Moved to the couch and sat down.

"So, I'm going out soon," Anne started. Isabel could tell she was excited. She always was when she went out one of her assignments. Anne planned everything in great detail when it came to the characters she would create and there was always a long build up. Isabel had not seen Anne much, and not spent any time with her, since she got back from the Texas mission. Unbidden, Isabel pictured Anne in her room painting the pictures on the walls and twisting metal into cat shaped forms.

"Not up north yet. They think I'm not ready." Anne scowled when she said this. Isabel wondered at the 'they' that could defy this formidable woman. "Just a practice run. Somewhere not too far. Maybe Texas. Everything," Anne gestured around the room at the art, "is working up to that. To going up north."

Anne treated 'going up north' as a big secret. She talked about it to Isabel enough that it could hardly be an actual secret. Isabel thought she liked the mystery of it all, the playing a part in her own show. Isabel had heard rumours that Anne was an infiltrator when she was out in the field. She would find groups, insinuate herself in, and sometimes even take them over. To what end, Isabel didn't know and didn't really care. She was good at it though, as if it came naturally to her.

Isabel never felt Anne was truthful about her past; Anne dropped broad hints about taking psychology in university and being 'recruited'. When 'the farm' was slipped into the conversation, Isabel put the pieces together. Still she thought the woman would've had a good career in Hollywood.

"C'mon," Anne stood up suddenly. "Let's lie down. I want to look at you. I think I might sculpt you."

_Look at you_ meant in the nude which was what they usually were when they lay on Anne's bed. That was the slow lead up. More talking, Anne could be very stream of consciousness, and soft touching. Anne touching Isabel. And she would take her time. With Anne everything was about the lead up. The anticipation. Anne would take her time touching here and there maybe complimenting Isabel on her body. 'Love your obliques,' Anne might say dragging a fingertip along Isabel's groin in a way that made Isabel gasp. Eventually it would be too much for Isabel and Anne would smile and give her a quick, sharp release that never felt truly satisfying.

_Why do I do this? Let this happen to me?_

Before tonight Isabel would've told herself that she enjoyed it. That Anne cared about her and wanted to please her. Looking around Anne's room tonight, Isabel felt she was nothing more than an object like the metal cat. Isabel might play with it for a time, but when she was done, she would just set it aside and move on to something else.

_It doesn't matter_, Isabel thought as Anne undressed her then herself. _It won't be like this with Al. When she looks at me, she will look right at me and I won't be just the sum of body parts like Anne makes me feel._

When they lay on the bed there was no touching at first. Anne was studying Isabel's face as if trying to figure her out. "Are you still upset about that guy? Your partner."

"No," Isabel replied. She couldn't think of anything else to say and to lie to Anne was a mistake. "I'm just not into it tonight."

"OK," Anne said though Isabel instinctively knew it wasn't really OK. They lay for a while with Anne's eyes roaming over Isabel's body as she commented now in then about sculpting and art techniques that Isabel knew nothing of, and cared even less about.

Isabel had almost disassociated herself enough that she thought she could get through this, when she felt Anne's finger trace along her inner forearm.

"I'm in your veins; in your blood."

Isabel lurched upright, swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood upright. The phrase was deeply personal and so close to what Isabel had said to Al last night that it was like an electric current shooting through her. Only it was opposite. Something a self-obsessed person might say.

Grabbing up her clothes, Isabel turned to look at Anne. She hadn't moved, just lay on her side there on the bed, one hand propping up her head. And she was smiling.

"There's someone else, isn't there, Isabel."

Isabel froze in the act of pulling on her pants; almost fell over. For a moment she thought it might be better to say _no, there's no one, just you_, and get back in bed. Only the thought of Anne's hands on her made her skin crawl in revulsion.

Anne sat up, stretched like a cat.

"Too bad, though, because she won't ever be as good as me."

"You're right," Isabel almost put her finger though her T-shirt as she pulled it on clumsily. "She won't be as good as you, she'll be better." At the door Isabel paused. "And that won't be hard to do." When she glanced back at Anne, the other woman's look was serious, calculating.

Isabel put her boots on outside in the hall; walked away fast. _This is what you get for letting a psycho take you to bed._ When she approached the guarded door that separated the military part of the base from the civilian quarters, she slowed down working hard to regain her composure.

With shaking hands, she tucked in her T-shirt and ran a hand through her hair. She and the guard exchanged nods and she passed through the door. In the corridor to her quarters Isabel had to restrain herself from running. Instead, she marched stiffly to her door, swiped her card key and, taking a big breath, went in. She sighed when she saw neither of her roommates were there.

Crossing to the bathroom she shut the door behind herself and locked it. Then and only then did she allow herself to collapse, retching dry heaves, into the toilet bowl. She was shaking, her face sweaty, but nothing would come. After a minute or too, and with great effort, she gathered her composure and sat back against the wall, arms wrapped around her knees.

This wasn't undoable, the logical part of her mind told her. All she had to do was go back to work and just forget about Al. Completely, totally. When she closed her eyes, she couldn't picture it. She couldn't see any way forward except the path that led to Al.

_You're in my veins, Al. Strong in my blood and there's no getting you out. You're all I can taste and all I ever want to feel. There's no turning away from you now. _

Isabel got to her feet. Someone had entered the outer room. Opening the bathroom door, Isabel nodded to the roommate that had entered and changed into her work out gear. A few miles on the treadmill would clear her head and help her plan.

If Anne showed up in the gym, well that self-centered psycho could just fuck off.

Anne wasn't at the gym or at breakfast the next morning. She was at the afternoon meeting Isabel was called to.

In the conference room, around the table, the Mission Ops people sat on one side, the Covert Ops on the other. Isabel took a spot next to the other pilot and tried not to look at Anne.

Anne was the only actual covert operator in the room. The other people beside her were support staff. A planner, two people who had done the preliminary field surveys, and, at the head of the table the Covert Ops manager. Beside him was Isabel's commanding officer, General Bichette. Two military intelligence officers made up the group.

Isabel kept her eyes on the screen behind her CO. The CRM logo with the three interlocking circles floated there, the projector at idle. CRM, Crisis Recovery Management. The mission was simple: restore things to the way they had been before a crisis happened to take them out. A government group formed from earlier disaster recovery protocols when the outbreak of illness had first started. Isabel doubted that the people behind _Recovery_ and _Management_ had ever envisioned shambling corpses roaming the countryside. They didn't get out much.

"We are ready to go into the field," the Covert Ops manager stated.

"I am, yes," Anne smirked from her side of the table and Isabel wondered how anyone could ever put up with her.

The Covert Ops planner took over then and Isabel tried to pay attention as she described a community that had made an old mill their base and were engaged in trying to help other survivors. There were long shots of a mill on a river and various 18-wheel trucks.

Isabel could feel Anne's eyes boring into her, so, as a distraction to herself, she poured water from a large pitcher that sat in the center of the table and sat back to take a drink. She almost chocked when a picture of Al's Skyvan came on the screen. Only it wasn't in pieces on the ground. She squinted. The beast of an aircraft had been cobbled back together and sat on dirt runway.

"We tracked the Skyvan's flight away from the area near the nuclear plant – the sector that Major Murray was in last month – back to this mill."

Isabel stiffened when she heard her name. Her CO was looking at her. "That the same plane in your report you said was crashed?" His tone held just a note of accusation.

Isabel made a show of studying the image. It had been shot from a distance so it was plausible she might not recognize the whole when she had only seen only the pieces.

"I think so sir, and if it is, someone did a hell of a job putting it back together."

_I bet I know who. _

Isabel had never doubted Al would get away from the area of the nuclear plant. She just hadn't expected her to put a crashed plane back together to do it. When she had written Al the note, and left it at the fuel drop, she had every expectation that Al would never find it. When she heard Al's voice on the radio that first night, she never thought to question how, she was just overwhelmed to hear her. The fuel drop was the only place they shared. The place they had sat around a campfire and really shared of themselves.

The rest of the meeting went by fast. After the surprise of seeing Al's Skyvan, Isabel tried not to think about the implication of the mission she was being given. Anne was going into the area where Al most likely was now. In four days. Two days after she was due to contact Al again by radio. At least she wouldn't be flying Anne. Her chopper would be in a support role.

Leaving the meeting Isabel avoided Anne. Back in her quarters she changed into a flight suit. She was due at the hanger for training.

Walking out into sunshine she stopped and blinked. She was being sent to where Al was. In four days, she might even have her boots on the ground there. That part of her plan had been handed to her, now all she had to do was figure out how to walk away. And that was the hard part, because no one just walked away.


	6. The Lion's Roar

Chapter 6 The Lion's Roar

Al woke suddenly. Her subconscious had been at work fact checking and going over details. Her brain had found something and thrown up a red flag. A big red flag. She realized she had no idea what day it was.

'_Thursday morning,'_ Isabel had said. _'I'll be back on Thursday morning. Same time.'_

Al's heart was pounding. If she didn't know what day it was, how would she know when it was Thursday?

Al dressed quickly; slung her webbing over her shoulders and checked her knives. She wasn't going anywhere outside her van without being armed. Not when people were dumb enough to leave gates open.

It took her the better part of an hour to find someone who knew what day it was.

A woman, new to the group and working in the kitchen, had a homemade calendar. "It's so I can remember my kids' birthdays," she unfolded a page drawn in pencil. "It's Tuesday," the woman pointed to a square on the paper. "My kids are gone now. It's how I remember. On each birthday I take some time to just think about each of them. Makes them real again."

Al had turned away before she paused. Turning back, she looked at the paper again. Wednesday of next week was marked with a heart. "Happy early birthday," Al looked closer at the page, "Sam."

The woman's face lit up. "Oh, she was a sweet one, Sam. You remind me of her. She was a regular tomboy too."

_I haven't been called that for a while!_ Al thought.

Al was turning away again when she paused a second time. "If I got my camera, would you talk to me? Tell me your story?"

The woman looked pained so Al continued. "You don't have to talk about the things that make you sad." By this Al meant death and loss. "You can just tell me about your kids and how you decided to make a calendar to remember them."

"I'd like that," the woman smiled.

Since she was in the kitchen, Al grabbed something to eat. She took her homemade biscuit and a pile of some sort of scrambled eggs, or what might have been eggs eons ago, and went outside. She found a warm spot in the sun on a pile of pallets.

Al was thinking about her camera and where she might have stowed more blank tapes, when she saw Alicia in the distance. She shouted her name and watched as Alicia paused, hand on her weapon, looking around suspiciously. When she saw it was Al calling her, she hesitated. Al waited. If she didn't want to talk, that was OK, but Al was keen to get things out in the open and put to rest.

Alicia walked over reluctantly. Al patted the space on the pallet beside her. Alicia sat and before Al could say anything, Alicia began.

"I'm sorry I kissed you like that. I shouldn't have."

"I know…"

"I'm crushing on you, you know," Alicia didn't look at Al.

"I know."

"It's not fair to you because you have someone else," this time Alicia smiled and looked at Al. "You should tell me about her. I've been trying to think who it could be around here…" Alicia was stopped by the look of shock and maybe horror on Al's face. "Oh, sorry. I shouldn't…"

"It's OK," Al swallowed hard. "I will, it's just not the right time. Some things have to be worked out."

Alicia was looking away. Al could see the side of her face and it seemed to be red with embarrassment. She started to say something and was cut off by Alicia.

"You must think I'm some lovesick teenager," Alicia said. "And I'm texting to you in class."

"No, I don't think that. I think you've been through a lot and are looking for someone to give you comfort. I can do that for you, Alicia, I just can't do more."

_Whew, got that out! Finally._

"OK," Alicia said.

The silence had stretched and they were still sitting side by side. Al tried to lighten the mood.

"No one ever passed me notes. That's how we did it then, no texting." Al grimaced to herself. She had just pointed out rather starkly the difference in their ages.

Alicia seemed surprised and Al was grateful it was for another reason. "No one? Not ever?"

"Nope, I wasn't like you," Al hesitated, 'I wasn't popular or pretty or anything like that. Sorry, I shouldn't make assumptions like that about you."

"It's OK," Alicia reached out; patted Al's hand. "I would've liked you. I bet you were cute even before you found music."

Al was thinking about what the woman with the calendar had said. How she was a tomboy.

"Before music I was just invisible. It was easier that way. If you were invisible no one judged you." A memory had come to Al's mind of a textbook and words scrawled on a page like graffiti. "It didn't always work though." She paused trying to think how to describe it. "You know how kids would write stuff about each other?"

"Like on the bathroom wall? '_For a good time, call Alicia. She puts out_.'"

"What were you doing in the boy's bathroom?"

"I wasn't in the boys. That was in the girls."

Al couldn't hold back the laugh that escaped her. "OK…"

"It wasn't meant like that. They were trying to… I dunno, shame me and insult me all in one. I wasn't into girls then. Not that I am now… oh, fuck. I didn't mean it like that I…"

Al waited; let Alicia work it out. This seemed important.

Alicia took a big breath before she spoke. "I guess I've just grown up. I don't think about someone… I dunno, how should I say this?" she paused for a moment before continuing more strongly. "I think about the person, not the parts."

"Parts are nice though," Al was thinking about Isabel in her tight T-shirt. "I like lady parts."

Alicia laughed and poked Al in the ribs.

"What did they write about you?"

Al swung her foot back and forth her heel thumping on the wood.

"She dresses like a boy."

Alicia was giving her a look that said _well, duh_ very clearly.

"OK, yeah, I know," Al exhaled. She couldn't really sum up what the words had made her feel. It was mixed up. "It hurt a bit; I think. And it made me realize I wasn't invisible. I couldn't hide. I think music gave me the confidence put myself out there." Al hopped down off the pallets.

"I'm glad you did, Al."

They stared at each other for an uncomfortable moment before Al said the first thing that popped into her mind. "I gotta go. Thursday will be here before I know it…" she stopped herself short.

_Dumbass!_

Alicia was looking at her strangely so Al just smiled and walked off. Quickly.

Thursday did arrive eventually. Just a lot slower than Al wanted.

Al had done a couple interviews with some of the new people documenting their stories. Still left with time, she had cleaned up her van and rearranged her tapes in a couple new ammo boxes. She even found time to get a good sleep.

Early Thursday morning found her waiting in heightened anticipation for 04:00. Isabel came on the radio right on time.

"Hey, you there?"

'I'm here. Good to hear your voice."

"Listen, Al, I don't have a lot of time. I'm training a new guy and he just went on break. If he comes back and hears me, he'll know I'm not just monitoring and I'll be exposed and that would ruin everything."

Before Al could say OK, Isabel was talking again.

"… pen and paper. Write this down."

Al found a pencil and a water stained pad. She felt her heart beating faster. "Go for Al."

There was a click and Al heard Isabel snicker. "Uh, yeah, I do, I really do."

Al felt her chest tighten. Instantly she was picturing Isabel, and their foreheads were pressed together. They were both panting from their kiss.

"There's a mission going out," Isabel was back to business, "near where you are. I'm flying support and I'm going to…" here Isabel hesitated.

"Get away and come to me," Al made an effort to breath; she was starting to feel lightheaded.

"Yeah, come to you. I just don't know how it's going to work. I might have to make it up as I go along."

"Please don't do it if it's too dangerous."

"Everything is dangerous now, Al. You should know that better than me."

During the next part of the conversation Al made notes. Isabel described a location; a barn Al could drive to and a nearby clearing that could accommodate a helicopter. She gave coordinates.

"Get a topographical map. Look it up. The mission is outbound in seventy-two hours. We will be in your sector about eight hours after that. I won't be the first chopper there. I'll come later, and when I come, I might not be alone."

"OK, how are you going to…" Al couldn't say the rest.

After a moment, when Al didn't continue, Isabel said, "Let me handle that. I'll deal with it. It's my problem."

"OK. Can I tell you that I can't wait to see you?" Al felt like a little kid saying this.

"Yeah, you can. That's nice. Any questions?"

_What should I wear? Should I bring wine?_ Al couldn't think of anything appropriate, so she just said, "No, I'm good."

There was a long pause before Isabel said softly, "If this doesn't work out, if something happens, just know that you're the best thing that's happened to me since the end and the beginning of everything."

"Me too."

"Gotta go."

With that, Isabel was gone.

Three days later

Al was crouched in thick brush looking out at the helicopter in the clearing. It had only recently stopped raining and the trees and brush around her were dripping. Al was soaked through but she ignored it. A man had gotten out of the helicopter holding a large duffle bag. He was wearing the same sort of bite-proof uniform Isabel had worn and the helicopter was the same nondescript green with the interlocking circles painted on the side.

A woman then hopped out of the cargo area. Al raised her rifle to sight through the Vortex scope she had recently installed. The woman was tall and lanky. Al clicked the magnification up a notch. Her dark hair was held back with a headband and, most interestingly, she did not wear a uniform. She was dressed in what Al instantly thought of as _'Survivor Chic'_.

Her pants were worn but sturdy and her shirt and jacket, though slightly dirty, still fitted her perfectly. If someone wanted to play a part and pretend to be a travel worn survivor, this was how they would do it, Al thought. Out on a road, or in a deserted town and with a bit more dirt, she would be perfect. When the woman bent to pick up a backpack. Al saw a holstered handgun at the small of her back. Al couldn't think of why anyone would need to carry concealed. The dead wouldn't be offended by a gun, and other survivors would just be wary.

The woman picked up a second bag, and she and the man walked toward Al.

Lowering the rifle slowly, Al made herself small and still. She hoped the brush was enough to conceal her as the two got closer. They stopped at the edge of the clearing to Al's right the man dropping the bag he carried at the woman's feet. He was speaking and Al strained to hear.

"…port will be on site in," he raised his wrist to consult a watch, "Six hours. They will stow your other load of supplies and orbit until they hear your go, no go."

The woman gave a mock salute, said something that seemed flippant.

"That will be your chance to back out," the man's voice was louder. "Your last chance. After that you're on your own.' He started to turn, stopped and faced the woman again. "This time put your radio somewhere safe and dry."

When he walked away the woman sneered at his retreating back. Then, she hitched her backpack up on her shoulders, took up one of the big bags in each hand, and walked off into the woods.

As the man reached the chopper and ducked under the slowly idling rotors to reach the co-pilot door, Al took a minute to study the pilot through her scope. He was older and had a rough face with stubble on his cheeks.

_Nope, not Isabel._

Al waited twenty minutes after the helicopter took off heading east before moving from her hiding spot. She moved quietly through the brush to where she could she could pick up the woman's trail. There were boot tracks along the path the woman had gone that were easy to follow even when Al stayed off the trail. After about a half hour of careful stalking, Al came upon the woman. She was stacking rocks on one of the duffle bags that she had placed at the base of an old stone wall. When she was done, she dusted off her hands and stood scrutinizing her work. She then adjusted a rock or two, added a couple more, and moved off following the rock wall.

Al waited another twenty minutes or so before following the rock wall in the opposite direction back towards the barn and her van.

Later

Al spent the next four and a half hours trying to control her anxiety. She hadn't felt this much apprehension and anticipation since she had driven out into the desert in an old Land Rover to try to interview a Somali warlord. That expedition had never amounted to anything; the vehicle had broken down not long after they started. After that, Al had promised herself to always be prepared and had taken courses in auto mechanics. She added flight lessons not long after though she never got her pilot's license.

A half hour before the support helicopter, and hopefully Isabel piloting it, was due to arrive, Al was well concealed at the edge of the clearing. She had moved to the left from where she had been before so she could clearly see where the trail the woman had taken entered the woods.

Al thought she wasn't doing too bad for an amateur commando. The shadows of the late afternoon allowed her black pants and brown jacket to blend with the foliage and she had found an old camo print jacket in the barn to drape over herself. She half sat, half crouched, against a rock her mud smudged face and the barrel and scope of her rifle the only things exposed as she faced the clearing.

There hadn't been many of the dead around to deal with since she had left the relative safety of the denim factory. Any that she encountered she took out. Less chance for distractions.

She did not have to wait the full thirty minutes. A sound reached her ears, a helicopter, but it didn't sound right. The engine noise seemed to be cutting in and out. When it came into sight, the tail was swinging side to side and the nose pitched up and down.

Al watched, heart in her throat, as the helicopter lowered clumsily into the clearing, torqued around and finally dropped hard on its skids in the grass. The engine powered down immediately. The pilot and copilot got out. Al didn't need her scope to know one of them, the pilot, was Isabel.

Isabel moved toward the tail of the chopper. The other occupant came around the helicopter from the other side. He moved with the purpose of someone used to being in charge. Yet, when he scanned the clearing, Al thought he looked a bit nervous.

"Get this bird fixed, Murray, so we can get out of here." He looked all around again then moved to look over Isabel's shoulder and into the part of the engine that was exposed when Isabel unlatched a side cowling. "What's wrong with it?"

Steam rose from the engine in a cloud of white. "I think it's the fuel pump, sir."

He hadn't seen what Al saw: Isabel had taken a plastic bottle from her pocket and sprayed something on the engine.

_Clever girl._

"Deal with it," he said to Isabel's back. "Before the damn dead come looking for a meal."

Isabel pulled a toolbox from the back of the helicopter. Then something else. "There's an extra jacket here too, General Bichette, if you want it."

When he just looked at her, Isabel tossed the bite proof jacket back in the helicopter. Unlike Isabel he was not wearing the armored clothing. His trousers and jacket were in a camouflage pattern Al had never seen before, and she had seen lots of military uniforms.

"I'm going to try to raise her," taking a radio from his belt he began to speak. "Lioness, this is Control, do you copy? Over."

When there was no immediate response. He shook the radio and looked at Isabel. "Drama queen would be a much better handle for her, don't you think, major?"

Isabel stopped rattling around in the toolbox. "I do, sir. Her last name is Lyon so I guess that's how she came up with it."

"Damn spooks."

Al would swear the general rolled his eyes. Raising the radio again he moved off around the helicopter. Al couldn't hear him speaking after that. As soon as he was out of sight Isabel dropped the wrench she was holding and turned to scan the woods at the edge of the clearing. Al fumbled in her webbing pouch and drew out a small flashlight. When Isabel looked her way, Al flicked it on and off twice.

Isabel froze and Al was sure their eyes met. For a long moment Isabel didn't move then, with a _stay back_

gesture at Al, she took something from her from her pocket and moved slowly toward the front of the helicopter. Not a pistol, a taser maybe.

Then the oddest thing happened. Once Isabel was around the front of the chopper, the general appeared at the back. In his hand he held not a radio but a pistol. Al sucked in a breath. _He knows, somehow, he knows. _

They stalked each other silently around the helicopter twice while Al's heart pounded and blood rushed in her ears. When the general came around to the side Al had a full view of, he turned around and held up his pistol. Isabel nearly walked into its muzzle.

"A taser, Murray?"

Isabel backed up a step. "I don't want to kill you, sir."

"Then you're a goddamn coward."

Isabel looked like she was going to say something else when there was a snap of branches in the brush to Al's left. Al couldn't see who or what it was. It was enough of a distraction; Isabel lunged. The pistol in the general's hand discharged as they hit the ground and a hole spiderwebbed the side window of the helicopter.

Al broke cover running across the thirty or so yards to the two people grappling on the ground.

The general had the advantage even with Isabel on top of him. He knocked the taser from her hand and slammed the side of his pistol into Isabel's head. When Isabel fell to the side, Al stepped up, reversed her rifle and hit him square in the forehead.

He fell back stunned.

Al grabbed the jacket at the back of Isabel's neck and pulled her to her feet. Blood streamed from the side of Isabel's head where the impact of the pistol had torn her ear.

For a long moment they stared at each other. Then, at the same time, they leaned into each other foreheads coming together. There were no words, there was no need. Al's hand was laced through Isabel's hair and Isabel was cupping Al's cheek.

"So sweet," said a woman's voice behind Al.

Al whirled around raising her rifle. The woman the general had been calling Lioness on the radio and the same woman Al had seen earlier in the day, stood near the tail of the chopper. Al lowered her rifle as the woman's hands were empty.

"So, this is her, is it Isabel?" She stepped to her right and looked down at the general who sat shaking his head slowly back and forth. Al's knock to his head with her rifle's buttstock had broken the skin and a trickle of blood ran down his nose.

Isabel said nothing just reached down to pick up the pistol from where it had fallen at the general's feet. She held it in both hands, low and pointed at the ground.

"You still can't shoot, can you Murray?" he wiped away the blood from his eyes. "That's what happened with Beckett? Wasn't it? I could read between the lines of your report. "

"Was it for her? You killed your partner for her?" this from the woman.

"_Her_ has a name. It's Al," Al just stared at the woman.

"Hello, Al." For an instant Al thought she might hold out her hand to shake. "I'm Anne, well Jadis now, on this _mission_," she spoke the last word with clear derision.

"I didn't kill him for anyone," Isabel finally spoke. "He jeopardized the mission. I killed him for protocol."

"Oh, high and mighty protocol!" Anne roared.

"Following the rules is what separates us from the cowards," the general said as he struggled to get to his feet. Al turned to cover him with her rifle held at 45 degrees. Once on his feet he extended a hand to brace himself on the pilot's door. Facing the general and the front of the helicopter, Al stood still. Someone was there, at the nose, and just out of sight. No one else seemed to notice.

Al's trigger finger shifted downward closer to the trigger and her thumb moved the selector switch to single shot.

"If she's a goddamned coward then so are you," Anne had drawn her pistol and was pointing it at the general. "She wouldn't, we wouldn't, be out here risking our lives if it wasn't for you. The great mission, protecting the future, trying to rebuild what we once all had." Anne looked at Isabel. "I had the same indoctrination too," she said and she actually winked.

"You just know better? Is that right, Agent?" The general's voice was contemptuous.

_What in holy hell was going on here? Al thought._

"Oh, I know alright," Anne waved her pistol. "I know everything, **everything**!" the pistol pointed squarely at the general's head. "I know how you played your tune to people like her," a quick head movement indicated Isabel, "because you knew they would overlook the truth and be blindly deceived."

The general had gone still.

Anne roared in laughter again and Al began to wonder if the woman wasn't coming unhinged.

"Tell her, general," Anne flicked her pistol for emphasis. "Tell her the truth. You want her to die for something she should fucking well know what." Anne had moved out away from the helicopter and Al realized she had a clean shot at all of them. "Tell Captain Marvel how this all started."

_Captain Marvel?_

Al's grip had tightened on her rifle, but she still kept it low. It would take only the slightest effort to bring the barrel up and fire on either Anne or the general. Until then, she waited. The less of a threat she posed the better.

A shot rang out. Anne had fired into the ground in front of the general.

"The Russians had it so we had to counter that threat."

"Keep going. So, then we had to steal it and modify it."

"Yes, you CIA spooks stole it and we studied it. We never intended to use it."

"I think they said that about Hiroshima and Nagasaki," Anne said conspiratorially to Al and Isabel.

"I don't know how it got out," the general said. "I don't. It spread too fast for us to contain so CRM protocols were invoked."

"Crisis Management Recovery," Isabel said to Al. Al hardly heard. She was still in shock that their own government had been responsible for the outbreak.

"_Recovery_," Anne mocked. "What is there to recover? The dead walk the earth and the living rape and rob and don't give a flying fuck about anything but themselves. What's the point of trying to bring back the world to the way it was? For what?"

"For love."

Al couldn't hold back the gasp that escaped her throat. Her grip slipped on her rifle.

Alicia had stepped out from the nose of the helicopter her hands loose at her sides; nonthreatening.

Anne had frozen at Alicia's appearance. She recovered quickly. "Love, right," she scoffed.

"You don't get it, do you, when it's right there in front of you," Alicia gave a wave of her hand toward Al and Isabel.

Anne said nothing; looked from Alicia to Al and Isabel.

"No, you don't get it. Not at all," Alicia sighed and shook her head.

"She can't, she's a fucking psychopath." Isabel's voice was low.

"You would know, wouldn't you?" Anne finally said. "She's my lover." This last was directed at Al.

"Was," Isabel said. "And it's Major Marvel."

The general laughed. Laughed heartily. Whether it was at Anne or just the situation he found himself caught in, Al would never know.

Anne shot him in the face.

Anne's pistol swiveled to her left and pointed at Isabel. "Drop it," she said her voice icy.

Isabel released her grip and the pistol she had been holding fell at her feet.

"You too," Anne moved her aim to Al.

"No."

"No? Well then," and Anne smiled as she brought the pistol back around to Isabel. Al saw her finger begin to squeeze the trigger. Al had her rifle up and her finger on the trigger. She couldn't fire. Alicia had lunged at Anne.

Alicia's body contacted Anne's and a single shot rang out.


	7. The Day is Done

Chapter 7 The Day is Done

Al stood frozen.

Alicia was flat on the ground and Anne was crouched over her, her back to Al and Isabel. Isabel reacted first; she strode forward, grabbed Anne by her collar, and tossed her aside. While Isabel knelt next to Alicia, Al moved forward, raised her rifle and sighted directly at Anne's chest.

"Don't point your weapon at something you don't intend to shoot," Anne mocked.

"Who says I…" Al's finger moved to the trigger.

"Al! Don't. Please don't. We need her." Isabel was looking at Al pleadingly. Her hands were pressing on Alicia's chest high up near Alicia's right shoulder. And there was blood lots of blood.

"Anne, get the first aid kit from the helicopter," Isabel ordered.

"Yes, sir." Though her tone was still mocking, Anne complied.

Al knelt next to Alicia. She was still conscious and breathing. She blinked and looked at Al.

"I think I understand now," Alicia's voice was soft. "Why she did it. She did what she thought she had to do… for love."

"Love again…" Anne dropped the first aid kit beside Isabel.

Al had had more than enough of this woman. Snatching up the taser off the ground, she jammed it into the closest part of Anne she could reach: her hip near her groin. Anne convulsed and dropped unconscious.

"What?" Al said when Isabel looked at her. "You told me not to shoot her."

Isabel didn't respond. She was pulling bandages from the first aid kit, putting pressure on the wound. "It's a through and through, Al. We have to stop the bleeding."

Spotting the walkie attached to Alicia's belt, Al pulled it free. The volume was set very low, a voice barely distinguishable. Al turned it up.

"… heard shots," Strand's voice was saying. "Alicia, answer me are you there?"

Al depressed the transmit button. "Strand! It's Al. Alicia's been shot. Can you get here, here where the helicopter landed?"

"Christ!" Al could hear the roar of an engine both over the walkie and somewhere close by. "We're almost there. I have June with me."

"Why was she…" Al couldn't continue. Looking down at Alicia she saw the young woman's face was pale, and her eyes were closed. Isabel had removed her jacket and pushed it under Alicia's head and upper body.

"She followed you and we followed her."

A moment later there was a crash of brush and a heavy 4x4 truck plowed into the clearing.

The next few minutes went by in a blur for Al. June took over Alicia's care. Isabel got more medical supplies from the helicopter including an IV bag and line. A couple times Al caught Strand looking curiously at the helicopter, Isabel, and the two people he didn't know: the obviously dead general and the unconscious Anne. When Alicia was loaded in the back of the truck, June looked at Anne.

"Don't worry about her," Isabel said. "We'll take care of her."

June touched Al's arm drawing her attention. "Alicia's stable for now, Al. We need to get her back to the factory."

As he got in the driver's side of the truck, Strand held up his walkie. "We will be in touch?"

Al nodded.

The truck had been gone for a few minutes and Al was putting a bandage on Isabel's head when Anne started to come around.

Al glared at the woman. All she wanted was to punch her.

"You can't, you need me," Anne acknowledged Al's anger. "Tell her why, Isabel."

Isabel gritted her teeth not wanting to reply. Eventually she said to Al: "We need her so we can be together."

Later

It was Anne's plan and it was simple. And, of course, it all depended on Anne.

"They'll believe me," Anne said as they loaded the general's body into the helicopter. Next went Isabel's armoured uniform; it was protocol to not leave it in the field.

"I told them I was suspicious of you," Anne explained. "Why do you think the general was even on this mission?"

Isabel hadn't thought about it. She was just following orders.

"He was sure you had lost your edge because of Beckett. Bet he was surprised," Anne looked at Al, "when he found out it was her. So, he flew this mission with you. Once you were on the ground, I'll tell them, you fought and you killed him. I happened on the scene, shot you, and you stumbled off into the woods. I stripped you, left you for dead knowing you would turn."

"Cold," Al commented.

Anne shrugged. "It's what they expect of me. Maybe now they will have enough proof and I'll go on the mission I really want."

Isabel had finished rummaging through the supplies in the back of the helicopter. She had pulled out some things she wanted including a pair of pants, left other things behind. When the side cowling was closed, Anne got in the pilot's seat.

"You can fly?"

Anne winked at Al as the chopper powered up. "I have many skills."

When the helicopter was gone from their view, Isabel sighed. "I didn't tell her. There really is something wrong with the fuel pump. I loosened the connections before we left the last fuel drop. I didn't have time to tighten it all back up."

"Will she make it?" Al wasn't sure she cared.

"I don't know. Maybe, probably, knowing her. Might be best if she does. They'll accept her story. She can be very convincing. Then she will be off up north where she's been agitating to go. No one will want her around when she tells them what she did to me. Left me to die and turn, half naked in the woods."

Al felt chilled. Taking Isabel's hand was soothing.

Later

It was well after sunset; the sky beyond the barn a deep cobalt blue. Al sat on the steps of the MRAP gazing out the big open window of the barn above the closed door. There was a clanking of a cowbell in the distance. On the way back to the barn she and Isabel had come across a homemade walker trap. A small motor moved steamers around made of foil that flashed in the slightest light. Every second or third turn a part of the moving apparatus contacted a cowbell and a hollow clank sounded. Fresh batteries had gotten it up and running. She and Isabel had dispatched the few dead that had gathered below and out of reach of the device. In the morning they would go out again and take care of any that arrived during the night.

Once at the barn, they had eaten a small meal and washed, Isabel the blood from her hair and neck, Al the mud from her face.

"She's going to be alright," Al set the walkie aside. "Strand just radioed. She's still out, but she's stable."

Isabel sat beside Al on the top step. "And?"

"And they won't say anything about us, about all that," Al waved a hand taking in everything outside the barn. "Strand said it was up to me what I say when, and if, we go back." Al paused for a couple beats before continuing. "I don't want to know anything about all of that right now. About CRM and what they do. It's all just too hard on my head right now."

"OK," Isabel left it at that. She looked away. Her voice when she next spoke was soft. "Why would she do that for me, Al? Take a bullet for me? You, I could maybe…"

Al cut her off. "She did it for us."

Isabel was silent for a moment. Al watched her twisting her long fingers. Finally, she smiled and said, "That's the last thing Anne would have expected."

"She was your lover?"

Isabel let out a small laugh. "Anne doesn't take lovers, she takes prisoners."

"She's oddly," Al tried to find the right word. "Magnetic. When you're up close to her. Not that I ever want to be close to her again."

"Me neither. Especially now that you are here."

They were silent for a time after that. Al felt the tension draining out of her. It was replaced by rippling awareness of the woman beside her. Picking up the bottle she had dug out earlier, Al uncorked it, took a drink. "I was saving this for some time special."

When she handed the bottle off to Isabel, the other woman took a drink. "Not much left. Times must have been very special lately."

"You could say that."

Isabel smiled, soft and gentle, her eyes on Al. It was the same smile Al had seen across a campfire on a mountain somewhere. A look she had craved seeing again.

When the bottle was empty, Al reared back and threw it away. Much as Isabel had thrown away Beckett's cabin key.

"I wanted to be a pirate once, go to sea on a sailing ship. That was lifetime ago. Then I wanted to be a singer; a girl with a guitar."

Isabel looked across the barn, out at the sky. "I wanted to be a poet another lifetime ago. Then I decided I could fly"

She took Al's hand then, and turning it over, kissed the inside of Al's wrist softly.

"You're strong in my blood, hot in my veins

Around you I orbit, caught on your chain

You my earthly bond, my morning sun

My evening moon when the day is done"

The last words hung in the air between them.

"I wrote that a long time ago for someone, anyone, I hoped I could feel that way about. I never found her then. I think I've found her now."

Al said nothing; words didn't come to her. Closing her eyes, she leaned her cheek on Isabel's shoulder. After a moment, Al felt Isabel's hand in her hair then a soft mouth on hers.

The kiss was slow and gentle; full of the same longing as the last time they were together. When they separated, reluctantly, Al smiled at Isabel.

"I've wanted you to do that since… well, the last time you did that."

Isabel smiled gently. "Me too."

Al pushed to her feet, extended a hand to Isabel.

"The day is done. Come lay down beside me."

Isabel took the offered hand.

Epilogue

Alicia came awake slowly. Her shoulder and chest hurt faintly. She looked around; June was dozing in a chair by her bed.

The memories came back to her bit by bit. The helicopter, Al and the woman she had fallen for, Isabel. And there was another woman, Anne, and between them a gun. There had been a loud report and pain and then… And then Anne's face was close, her voice in Alicia's ear.

"Your mother says 'Hi.'"


End file.
